


Carry Me Awry

by fuure, PieDeLune



Category: Monster (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon Universe, Chance Meetings, Drink With Me, Drinking, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Forgiveness, Gay, Hotels, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2020-10-19 00:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuure/pseuds/fuure, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieDeLune/pseuds/PieDeLune
Summary: Lunge and Tenma run into each other six months after Ruhenheim. Former nemeses use the power of alcohol to navigate an awkward social situation, and in the search for a new friend perhaps find something more.M/M





	1. Chapter 1

**CW alcohol use, mild nsfw. M/M.**  
  
Six months had passed since Johan Liebert’s escape from the hospital after being shot in the head. For the second time, it was Dr. Kenzo Tenma, former chief neurosurgeon at Eisler Memorial Hospital, who saved the serial murderer’s life. 

A highly skilled inspector from the Bundeskriminalamt in Germany at the time, Heinrich Lunge, had ruthlessly pursued Tenma for over ten years. Believing him to be responsible for all of the murders Johan had either committed or orchestrated, he’d pursued the doctor at even the cost of his own family, becoming obsessed to the point of ignoring the evidence pointing to anyone _ but _ Tenma… and how wrong he had been. 

Lunge and Tenma were old history now, and since he became a professor of criminal psychology at the Düsseldorf police academy, Lunge hadn't ever expected to again see the face that had once been so ingrained into his mind.

Of course, fate had other plans.

Above all, Tenma was adjusting to civilian freedom again. He'd been a fugitive for so long that he'd needed to relearn how to be a functioning part of society. The hardest part, he thought, would be to let go of the instinctive prickle of anxiety whenever he heard a siren or spotted a police officer, to quell the instinct to hide. As a Japanese man in post-war Germany, he was a fish out of international water.

Nevertheless, life was looking up. He never wanted to go back to any one hospital, especially not any prestigious ones that would raise him up on a pedestal for both his skills and the harrowing events he’d endured. 

It was for this reason that the Doctors Without Borders program was the best option he could possibly have had. Traveling had simply become a way of life, and now he could do so _ and _ save lives — legally. Now, he had the added luxury of being able to come back and visit Nina, Dieter, and Dr. Reichwein without fear of endangering them.

It seemed impossible not to run into old faces whenever Tenma returned to Germany. On a clear, sunny morning in Düsseldorf, at a quiet corner café with a cup of coffee, he ran into one of the most recognizable of them all.

Tenma's heart clutched in his chest when they laid eyes on each other, each frozen for just a split second from the residual instincts of their decade-long game of cat-and-mouse. Not only that, but… something _ else, _ like a corkscrew winding in Tenma’s gut that felt different from lingering fight or flight. The discomfort hardly registered, overpowered by the sheer surprise.

"Inspector… Lunge," he heard himself utter.

The figure in question responded to the utterance after taking a moment to process for himself. 

"Dr. Tenma," he acknowledged, taking in the sight of his former nemesis and updating his mental profile to match what he saw before him: a man whose fortunes seemed to have vastly improved since last they met. 

Tenma wore crisp clean clothes, and he'd finally trimmed that mop of jet black hair back to a respectable length. 

Fingers typing away at his side, Lunge ghosted over the notes in his profile of Tenma that may not have necessarily been so objective. 

That frightened mouse persona he had once observed about the doctor seemed peculiarly absent, but Lunge took care not to startle him anyway. 

"You’re… not someone I expected to see."

Tenma’s gaze flitted to the movement of Lunge’s fingers before lifting back up to the inspector’s face. Swallowing back the continuous fluttering of nerves within him, the doctor turned to face the older male, disarming and polite.

“Ah… Inspector Lunge, what a coincidence,” Tenma greeted him, setting his coffee down. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again either…”

The typing at his side… Lunge must have been doing the usual thing, wasn’t he? Cataloging every thought, every observation, into a great hard drive in his mind. Well, of course he had to update his profiles.

“I — I actually just flew into Berlin last night,” the Asian was compelled to explain. “I’m afraid I didn’t sleep much, so… well…”

He tapped the rim of his coffee cup with a nervous laugh.

“But how have _ you _ been…?”

Lunge glanced down at his own cup of coffee with the ghost of a smile.

"Much the same, doctor — busy as usual, though not as Inspector any longer. I teach the federal police how to get inside a criminal's mind in order to catch them."

This was said with a hint of humour, given their history. 

"And you are with Doctors Without Borders."  
  
Tenma raised his eyebrows at first, impressed — a detective to the soul, of course Lunge would have figured that out already. If he wanted to know something, he’d find it out. And now, it seemed, he was teaching more police how to do exactly the same.

“Ah, I guess word gets around quickly,” Tenma chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was still strange to not feel long hair brushing against his knuckles when he did that, but it felt nicer to be well-groomed again.

“I did join the DWB,” he confirmed. “I’m back in Düsseldorf for a conference this weekend, actually. The first meeting is about an hour from now, so… unfortunately, I can’t stick around.”

He paused, watching Lunge’s fingers tapping at his side without rest. Just what was he entering in…? 

“That is… but… I _ would _ like to hear how your teaching job is going,” the doctor added delicately. “I don’t have anything planned tonight… if you’d like to catch up then.”

This proved a surprise for Lunge too, and his angular brows lifted slightly in turn. 

"_My _ job?" he clarified, lifting the coffee to his lips. He needed the caffeine. "If it is a specific case you’re interested in, doctor, it would save more time to know about it now."

“Not at all,” Tenma assured him. “Right now I have to run, but… if you’d like to have a beer, I’ll be at the hotel Breidenbacher Hof tonight at 7:00. You’ll find me at the bar.”

The shorter man drained his coffee and stood up, pulling a few coins from his pocket and setting them on the table.

“I’m a little short on time. It was good to see you, Inspector — I mean, Professor Lunge.”

"I must say that I find this unexpected, but if I have some time tonight… I don't see the harm in having a beer," the German acquiesced. 

Tenma's smile became one of relief, and he relaxed as he picked up the messenger bag he’d brought with him.

“That’s wonderful,” he replied, opening the bag and fishing something out of it. “Here, I have the hotel address on this business card if you can make the time this evening.”

Tenma offered it to Lunge with both hands, the upper half of his body ever so slightly inclined — even if he didn’t feel as though he fit in with neither Japanese nor German society, many of his mannerisms were still distinctly Japanese.

Lunge knew perfectly well where the hotel was, but he accepted the card regardless.

"7:00, you said. I'll see what I can do," he said simply, and turned his back to head on his way to the academy in the north of town. "Good to see you… Tenma."

This day had taken a surprise turn, and the taller male left with a strange tightness in his heart that he didn't have the time to dissect.

A beer with Kenzo Tenma…

Maybe it would be cathartic.

— — — 

When they made their goodbyes, Tenma boarded a street trolley to take him to the downtown hotel where the conference was being held. He was there for the better part of the morning, broke for lunch then returned for the afternoon, taking notes of programs to join and which regions needed more doctors most urgently so he could plan accordingly.

Serious as ever, Tenma didn’t mingle with the other doctors much at all, and tried to stay as ordinary and unremarkable as possible so no one would talk to him. It was simply the introvert’s life.

He sometimes worried that if he’d not had such a passion for medicine and healing the sick, he might have ended up a _ hikikomori. _ Perish the thought…

It was with notebooks and planners chock full of new schedules and ideas that Tenma returned to his own hotel, making his way to the restaurant. He arrived at 6:30 and had a light dinner there, but migrated to the warmly-lit bar at 7:00 as he’d promised.

An ice cold glass of beer hit the spot after such a long day. He was keen to get to bed, but a nervous anticipation fluttered in his belly every time he glanced at the clock, wondering…

_Would he come?_

Lunge's day was methodical as usual. He gave his lectures on criminal psychology to the trainee agents, providing insight into his unique perspective.

He'd earned the prestigious position, as well as a medal for bravery and renown among his peers, for catching Johan Liebert. It had only cost him his family, over a decade of his life, and a few inches of colon. No one was going to deny he'd earned it, but had it been worth it? 

Some of the things he'd lost couldn't be regained. It was simply important to remember that new things could be found. 

_Is that what Tenma is…? _he wondered, and realized moments later that it was a quarter to seven and he hadn't arrived home yet to freshen up for the occasion. The thought was lost.

Weighing his options, the professor turned right towards Königsallee when he reached Carlstadt. He’d spent 10 years missing everything and everyone by just moments — he wasn't going to miss Tenma now.

The Asian drummed his fingers anxiously on the polished wood bar counter, munching the occasional peanut to distract from his tension. The things he'd done that day crowded up his mind, leaving him fretting about this and that. When he spotted movement by the glass paned door out of the corner of his eye, he twisted in his seat to get a better look. Was it…?

It was. 

Heinrich Lunge entered the bar, still in the same grey suit he'd been wearing that morning, and appeared to be scanning the facility — looking for him.

Knowing when he was being searched for still gave Tenma knots in his stomach. Logically, he knew he was fine and not in any sort of trouble, but his brain still liked to tell him that he was.

"Ah, Professor — " he called, raising his voice and his hand to catch the former detective's attention. "Here…"

What Lunge felt as he was greeted by Tenma could only be described as relief. Almost smiling, he approached the doctor and took a seat beside him when invited. 

"I ran a bit late," he remarked apologetically as he set his case down, noting the empty beer bottle and frittered bits of peanut shells. "I'm glad I caught you."

Tenma eventually found that he was relieved as well, and had a smile for Lunge as he passed the bowl of peanuts the professor's way, then ordered two more glasses of beer — this one for his friend, of course.

"It seems like we both had a long day today," he guessed. "My conferences only finished about an hour ago."

"Ah," the other man remarked. "And you still found time to have dinner. As expected of the efficient Tenma."

He removed his jacket and folded it over his shoulder, and thanked the Japanese man as he received the glass his tall schooner of beer. The peanuts went untouched.

Tenma blinked. 

Ah…? How could Lunge tell that he'd already eaten? This man was vigilant as ever! Could _ anything _escape his notice?

"I'd have liked to change before we met, but at least I can unwind for the night. What about you?" the giant continued. 

"Oh — that's right," Tenma answered brightly. "I wish I'd had time to change as well, but I didn’t want to risk missing you. It's great to be off my feet, though. And… the first cold beer after a day like this is always the best one, in my opinion."

He crossed his ankles, setting them on one of the rungs of the bar stool. "Actually… I think I _ can _ unwind now that you're here. I was actually a bit restless before now."

Lunge's hand twitched. 

This was interesting. Tenma had also forgone a task specifically to see him? _ But, _ thought Lunge, _ it could simply be his cultural sensibilities. _ Tenma was notoriously polite, but… why would he feel _ better _with his former nemesis here? 

"You would not be blamed for having anxiety," the instructor conceded, "but you seem to have put your life back together very well."

Tenma raised his eyebrows and cocked his head a little, smiling reflexively.

"Ah, well,” he replied with a laugh disguised as a sigh, increasing his grip on his glass, “Thank you… It's just, I feel anything _ but _ put back together yet. Sometimes I still feel like an outlaw. It may take another year or two to feel like I've really put my life in order."

The surgeon smiled into the foam of his beer, watching it fizz just outside his range of hearing.

"I _ am _ happy with Doctors Without Borders," he added, keenly aware of Lunge’s gaze. "Even though I still have anxiety while a patient's life is in my hands… I know without a doubt that it's the best thing I could be doing."

Lunge exhaled slowly after draining some more of his beer — _ little more than piss, really, _ he thought to himself. But something far more pressing that had plagued him to this day was his own role in tarnishing Tenma's reputation and, one could go as far as to say, ruining his life. After all, he'd attempted to murder him more than once.

"By the way… I’ll buy the drinks tonight. It's the least I can do," he insisted with a flicker of guilt. The simple ‘sorry’ back in Ruhenheim didn’t scratch the surface of what this eccentric German felt he owed Tenma. 

"A-ah…"

Tenma understood and didn’t blame the other man for the choices he’d made. The Johan Liebert affair had been such a deeply convoluted mystery, the Machiavellian antagonist had nearly succeeded in erasing all evidence of his existence. Lunge had simply been doing his job.

Evidence had pointed to Tenma for a long time. The doctor understood that.

“You really don’t have to," he protested, but only as a formality. “Please don’t feel obligated… I invited you, after all."

The Asian finished his beer off, setting his empty glass off to the side.

“It’s very kind of you to offer.”

For the former inspector, the most desirable outcome was an evening of light chatter without delving into those things in the past.

Lunge kept the drinks coming, and a good amount of time passed. It was Friday night, so they didn't need to be anywhere in the morning. It was fine to let loose a little, because after everything they'd gone through, they'd earned it. They migrated from the bar to a dim atmospheric lounge in the back that boasted a large, cylindrical aquarium of goldfish. It provided both introverts with something to glue their eyes to. 

“So, ah… criminal psychology, was it? Wh… what’s that been like?” Tenma asked as they sat down on of the curved leather sofas that surrounded the aquarium.

Lunge laughed faintly. "It's not the exhilarant lifestyle of an inspector," he mused, "but it's better for me this way."

He had to admit… he was enjoying himself. Neither he nor Tenma were good conversationalists, yet it didn't seem to matter. He wondered if their shared experiences overrode that, because they were simply left feeling like they were with an old companion, where words weren’t even necessary.  
  
After discussing the details of his job, and admitting that he did a little forensic consulting on the side in a very detached degree, Lunge decided it was his turn to question Tenma.

"Have you been seeing anyone? …Women, I mean."

This seemed to briefly confuse him. 

“Goodness… n-no, I haven’t… been interested in anyone,” the doctor flustered, leaning a hand on the upholstery. “I think I’ve just been occupied, but… I haven’t been with anyone since Eva. I almost went on one date, but that fell through. I suppose… the right person hasn’t come along yet.”

He glanced sidelong at Lunge to assess him. It was only fair that the brunet receive a personal question in return.  
  
“What about yourself? Have you reconnected with your family?”

"I, uh…" Lunge began, clearing his throat. Deciding he needed a _ real _ drink, he raised his head and gestured to the bartender for two. 

"Märzen, please. And an ice water." 

Turning to his companion, a hint of mischief glinted in the professor's eyes. "You're good at being German, Dr. Tenma, but your beer choices give you away. What _ you _ have is beer-flavoured water. I will show you what we Germans drink."

Tenma glanced quizzically at his former pursuer, and then at his schooner of golden beer. Was this really considered ‘weak’…?  
  
He'd never tried Märzen, but he'd heard it was popular at Oktoberfest. It was just another thing that felt completely alien to him, but Lunge seemed to be getting more comfortable with him, which was reassuring. He was sharing his culture, and Tenma could always appreciate that. He couldn't help smiling as he watched the professor in the calming, refracting light of the aquarium.

Since Lunge had dodged the relationship question almost immediately upon being asked, the doctor was led to believe this wasn't a topic his companion wanted to discuss. The most likely explanation was that things hadn't gone well with his family, and he just wanted to drink and distract himself from it.

Once again, Tenma understood.

"Is that so, professor?" he challenged in amusement instead. "Show me the proper drinks, then… I don't have much experience with drinking, truth be told…"

"I see. I'll be glad to teach you." 

Lunge began to type.

**TENMA, Kenzo:**

**\- minimal alcohol consumption and tolerance. **

"The best German beer is strong," he advised. "As it might be a little overpowering for you at first, I got you some water too." 

Their drinks arrived and Lunge took his flagon with a content smile, but he found Tenma looking somewhat uncertain about it.

The doctor's eyes were wide with surprise at the honest-to-goodness _ flagon _ of dark, foamy beer being delivered by the barmaid. He blinked, glancing briefly at Lunge, then back to the drink. 

"Do I…? Do I just drink from it normally?" he wondered with a little flush of self consciousness, grasping the handle and pulling the flagon closer to him. "I had no idea it'd be so big…"

An expression of amusement passed Lunge’s features, almost as if his sharp mind had a secret gutter of refuse deep down. "Watch," he replied, taking a long draft from his own to demonstrate, and wiping the foam away afterwards with a satisfied sigh.  
  
"This is _ much _ better."

Tenma followed suit, then exhaled sharply and wiped the foam from his lips, scrunching his eyes briefly shut at how strong this drink actually was.

_I'm definitely going to need that water… _

Only after Tenma had also imbibed did Lunge decide to answer the question he'd asked earlier. 

"Actually… My family moved to Berlin," he heard himself explain with chagrin. "I… received a photograph of my grandson in the mail a few months ago, though." 

He couldn’t help the little bubble of pride or the smile that came with thinking of that darling boy.

Tenma blinked rapidly before he opened his eyes again, but when he heard this news from Lunge, he looked up with excitement.

"Oh, how wonderful!" he exclaimed with full sincerity once he got his breath back. "That's so exciting. He must be getting so big…! I hope you will be able to visit them soon."

Not that Tenma had visited his _ own _family in over two decades. Even if they were halfway across the world, the doctor had been well off enough to easily pay for numerous trips to see them. Perhaps… the pot should not be calling the kettle black.

"It's good news," he offered before taking his next gulp from the Märzen. "I'm glad to hear it."

"W… well…" Lunge closed his eyes for a moment to let the alcohol settle. "A visit won’t be likely. Have you heard much about the situation?" 

He was surprised to learn that Tenma knew about as much as Roberto had. Having information was useful when you were trying to evade someone, and that made sense. At least, if they were trying to make friends with each other, it got some of the less pleasant business out of the way. 

They'd all moved to Berlin together: the unfaithful wife, their daughter and her infant son, and the scum of a man who that child would call 'Opa' instead of Lunge. It was with a less authoritative voice than usual that the ex-inspector caught the doctor up on how he'd destroyed his own life in pursuit of him. 

"Anyway… it's easier for them if I don't visit. They have their own lives now, and I have mine back, too. It’s better not to disrupt that."

This discussion had not gone in the direction Tenma thought it would. His smile slipped from his face as he listened to this unfortunate turn of events; the erroneous assumptions he’d made now left him in a bit of an awkward position.

"…I'm so sorry to hear that," he muttered, eyes downcast as he leaned back against their lounge sofa. "You have my sympathy, Professor Lunge."

Tenma knew his fair share of betrayal. It was hard to live with, and it put one in an awful place. He only knew the betrayal of a power-hungry fiancée — what on earth would it be like to have your wife and daughter abandon you? To never know your own grandchild?

The doctor's high empathy flared up, and he glanced ruefully back at Lunge. 

"Perhaps you're right," he said in reluctant agreement, nursing his drink. "It's hard to move on from our past mistakes, but… it might be for the best.”

The inevitable thoughts came roaring back, and Tenma turned away again, giving his attention to the hypnotic refracting light of the aquarium. 

“Johan really destroyed countless lives,” he sighed. “And the ones who didn't die are still suffering. I can really only pray that, wherever he is… he's a changed man."

Lunge had his serious doubts about that, but kept them to himself. He wasn’t about to rain on Tenma’s parade.  
  
"Well, it could be worse,” he offered. “My daughter and I keep in touch via email, and it's… it’s nicer than you’d think.”

He just wanted to see the doctor’s smile return.

"I've observed how we, the survivors, have sought to rebuild after his reign. I've preserved their accomplishments in the hard drive in my head. _ Your _ accomplishments. Some might say that your success despite your hardships is nothing short of inspirational."

Lunge could feel the heat in his face when he finished speaking, and averted his coal gaze to the fishtank as well. "You've certainly earned it."

Tenma's face was quite warm as well, and he hunched his shoulders just so like it would hide his blush from the compliments. Distracting himself, he followed the goldfish themselves again, focusing on one in particular as it glided through the water.

This didn't seem usual for the former detective. Complimenting others? Was it the alcohol, or was Lunge actually trying to cheer him up? He was avoiding his gaze, so at least Tenma could tell they were equally awkward on the subject. That was a comfort.

"Oh, I… don't know about that," the ever humble doctor murmured, determinedly watching his chosen fish. 

"Being an inspiration, that is. I inspired awful things in Johan when he was only a boy. I don't want to be anyone's idol — I'd rather help people as discreetly as possible. I don't enjoy drawing attention to myself, professor."

He exhaled slowly and had a long draft from his beer.

"All I'd like is some peace and quiet while I save lives. If I can enjoy someone's companionship during that time as well… I won't be opposed to it."

Then, at last, he did smile again.  
  
"I've enjoyed your company, Professor Lunge," he declared. "And I’m happy to know you still have a connection with your daughter. Perhaps… we should keep in touch through email as well? I would like to see you again after this."

"Huh…" _ Tap-tap-tap. _ "…I'd allow that. " 

Lunge's body was growing very warm from the alcohol, so he neatly rolled up his sleeves. With his flagon about half-empty, he was getting tipsy himself. He realized he was probably staring too much at Tenma — but his smile was just so pleasant and genuine, so how could he not?

It was not often he found such expressions directed towards himself. It was a nice change.

Tenma had removed his jacket and folded it neatly beside him, and was now undoing the top button of his collar and loosening his tie just a little. As Lunge had claimed, the Märzen was truly superior to the beer Tenma had been drinking; richer and stronger. The Japanese doctor swayed pleasantly back and forth as he watched the goldfish, beyond the border of tipsy already. 

"I'm glad we were able to meet," he hummed. "What were the chances…? I think this is the start of a wonderful friendship!”

_ Friendship…? _

Had neurotic, eccentric old Lunge finally _ gained _ something? Grimmer… would be proud.

The German blinked through the growing daze. He'd just assumed Tenma was uncomfortable, and had every expectation to never see him again after they’d caught up tonight. He was not quite arrogant enough to think the genius neurosurgeon would seek out _ his _ friendship. This, though… nothing in his calculations led him to think it was a bad idea. In fact, it felt rather nice.

"Doctor, I’d… be glad to accept your offer,” he responded, and simply reached out. He and Tenma shook hands.

“Thank you, Lunge-san. Ah…! Excuse me — Professor Lunge."  
  
The older male let out a breath of laughter. Hadn’t that almost been nostalgic?  
  
_ I am Kenzo Tenma. I am a Japanese man. Dōmo _. 

"Please,” he reassured the embarrassed doctor. “It was because of you that I compiled an amplitude of data on the Japanese culture, something I found much fascination and respect for. With a friend, one should have the ease to speak freely."

The doctor was taken by genuine surprise again. He tore his gaze from the fish and faced Lunge again, cheeks flushed. 

"Thank you, I — I appreciate that!” Tenma replied emphatically. “I-I just… sometimes it slips back... when I'm less sober… I’m a little nervous, you see…”

No one had really expressed interest in his culture before — he'd been mostly referred to as 'that Asian doctor' during his fugitive days. He’d cooked a few traditional Japanese meals for anyone who’d harbored him, but that was the extent of the cultural exchange.

As always, Lunge broke the mold. It was to be expected of a detective who used psychology to understand the criminals he chased: the more he understood their backgrounds, the further into their heads he could dive.

“Nervous, you say…” Lunge watched him with a raised brow. “I figured you only suggested this out of your _ innate _ sense of politeness.” 

“Ah, not at all!” Tenma replied amicably. “If I hadn’t wanted to meet up with you, I wouldn’t have told you where I’m staying or that I wanted to meet you there later!”

Well, the doctor had certainly become more assertive since his days as a naïve, milquetoast doormat of a surgeon. Perhaps being a fugitive had done him some good in the long run.

“I’d _ like _ another drink with you, Professor,” Tenma insisted, back straight with his hands perched on his knees. “I’m just not good at conversations. We both have a lot to learn, which… is okay. Since Johan consumed so much of our lives, I want to move forward with someone who understands… like you.”

Lunge's eyes widened imperceptibly. That was an insight he hadn’t expected from the doctor, but it was all true.

“…Make no mistake; if Kenzo Tenma wants another drink with me, I owe him nothing less. Tonight has been quite enjoyable," he heard himself say, and had to admit to himself that the alcohol was influencing him a bit. “I’m adjusting as well.”

A pause, and then… 

_"{Arigatou, Tenma-san.}" _

A brilliant shade of magenta crept up Tenma’s cheeks at being thanked in his native language.

“P-please, there’s really no need for that,” he muttered, physically waving his hands to dissuade him. “I’m glad I’ve given you a good time… but you don’t have to go so far! Finishing our beers would be just fine with me! Actually, I meant to ask if you’d been up to much aside from teaching at the academy? I don’t think I asked if you were seeing anyone…”

"I would have brought it up when it was relevant," Lunge replied curtly, crossing one muscular leg over the other. "It wouldn't be the _ worst _ thing if I was… seeing someone… but I’m reluctant… should history repeat itself."

Tenma nodded with a little sympathetic smile. 

“I understand the feeling,” he said, lowering his volume. “But if you found the right woman, someone who is patient when you’re focused on something, and communicates what she needs from you… it might be very good for you.”

Though, Tenma wasn’t sure he liked the way this conversation made him feel. There was something not quite right, but the puzzled doctor couldn’t really pinpoint _ what, _ much less why.

"I just don’t think that’s likely,” the older male dissented. “I'll be grateful just to learn how to make friends," he added, tapping his temple with a long finger.  
  
With that, he downed the remainder of his flagon. What he did not expect, however, was for Tenma to glance across at him and abruptly do the same. The former inspector raised his eyebrows at the sight, fairly incredulous.

“Are you able to hold that…?” he asked, almost having to hold back a laugh. “It might be too strong for an inexperienced drinker…”

Tenma exhaled sharply, making a bit of a face as he lowered the flagon. Damnit, it _ was _strong, but he didn’t want to be left behind.

“I’m fine,” he breathed, a huff leaving his chest. “I can keep going.”

Lunge’s eyebrows were already high, but one of them dropped to reflect his doubt.

“I won’t hold your hair back when you’re sick,” he taunted, but he ordered them another round of schooners of the Märzen. Tenma wouldn’t handle another flagon, but he just might be able to stomach the smaller volume. And fortunately, the doctor took it slower with the schooner, sipping at it every so often while they bantered back and forth. 

The time flew right by them this way. 

"Oof…!"

Tenma flopped back against the lounge sofa, letting out a long sigh through his nose. 

It had been about half an hour since he’d swigged the last of his beer, and he'd just wobbled his way back from the men’s room.  
  
_ Drunk. _Lunge knew it; he shouldn’t have let Tenma go for one last drink. 

"I might suggest turning in for the night," the older man said with a frown, observing the unsteadiness of his gait.

"Mnn… but Lunge-san, we still have so much to talk about," the Asian protested with blushing, smiling cheeks. "I just got back from two months in Pakistan; is it too much to want to spend time with a familiar face…?"

Unusual behaviour for the doctor, wasn’t it? Maybe he _ was _ lonely, Lunge thought in amusement, ignoring Tenma's chatter and heading off to pay for their drinks for the night. His own stride was a little less certain as he walked, and he knew that he'd probably overdone it a little himself. It had been a special occasion, to be fair, but now he was going to need a cab home. 

"Perhaps not, but wouldn't it be regrettable if you were arrested for public inebriation?" he said with a breath of laughter when he returned to the jet-haired man.

"I definitely don’t want to be arrested," Tenma replied with a weak chuckle of his own. "That'd be too ironic. Can you imagine what the newspapers would say? ‘_ Remember that doctor that we thought killed _ —’ " 

Lunge stopped that train of thought when he took Tenma by the upper arm and raised him to his feet. 

"I'll help you upstairs. Wouldn't want you to trip and hurt yourself, now…"

"L-Lunge-san, I'm not _ that _drunk," he laughed, latching hold of the taller man's arm. "I could keep going!" 

He leaned against the former inspector for support and numbly observed how unexpectedly _ muscular _ he was under that suit. It took him by surprise, but when he thought about it, it made sense — even if he had been a detective, it was still with the federal police. They had to maintain a certain level of physical fitness to stay on the force, didn't they? And it hadn't been very long since Lunge had retired; maybe he even upkept his exercise regimens. There was endless things to learn about such an eccentric man. 

"My room’s… 203," Tenma groaned defeatedly, as Lunge ushered him from the lounge. He'd finally come to terms with his fate as he began to feel a little nauseated, but he could tell that he'd be able to keep it down. At least, if he didn’t move his head around too much.

The professor had been right to cut him off when he had. It was a true friend who stopped you making a fool of yourself. 

———

All things said and done, however, this was still not how either of them had imagined their night going. Rather than being comfortable in his pyjamas and in his toasty bed at home, here Lunge was escorting a merrily drunk Tenma back to his hotel room. It was only two flights of stairs, but that might as well have been Mt. Everest when they weren't sober. 

"Where's your key?" he mumbled, averting his eyes from other guests down the hallway entering and leaving their rooms.

Tenma consoled himself with the idea that whoever saw him like this wasn’t of consequence, and they’d never see each other again. There would be no one to apologize to later. 

"Here… we make a good team after all, don't we…? Hah…" he mused, handing over his room key breathlessly. "We made it."

"A team, you say…" echoed the German as he let Tenma into his hotel room. 

It was an ordinary little accommodation — a double bed, a desk with some stationery and paperwork organized tidily on its surface, an upholstered plush chair by a little cafe table, a small television perched atop a dresser. A sofa was nestled in the corner next to the dresser, and the bathroom was tucked away behind a door adjacent to the room entry door. In Lunge's own assessment, this was a modest room, and Tenma most likely could have afforded a more luxurious one. It was like him to be humble. 

Tenma careened inside, stepping out of his shoes as he did so, passively missing having a _ genkan. _ They were just tidy and convenient…

With a heavy sigh, he shrugged the strap of his bag off of his shoulder and half-dropped it to the floor at the foot of his bed, where he sank down onto the mattress. 

"Mmm… what an ordeal," he muttered as he rubbed his temples, which had begun to throb a little. "Thank you for seeing it through with me, Lunge-san. Please make yourself comfortable."

A breath of laughter.

"Dr. Tenma…" Lunge began, grasping the handle of the briefcase at his side. "If there's anything I can get you, let me know. Otherwise I will make my way home for tonight. The taxis will not be operating much longer this evening, and I’ve had a bit too much to take my own car."

Tenma's dropped his aching head, but glanced over at Lunge with a mildly dubious look. 

"Wouldn't it be cheaper to spend the night on the sofabed?" he asked reasonably, cheek resting in his palm and resting his elbow on his knee. "If you just have to come back for your car tomorrow morning, I’d hate for you to have to pay for cab fare twice.”

This was a very unexpected offer, and Lunge was briefly at a loss.

"That would be… an imposition," he eventually protested with a frown. 

"Not at all," the surgeon assured him. "Friends are allowed to assist each other. Now, there’s a spare pillow and blanket in the cupboard; you’re welcome to them.”

He gestured to the couch for Lunge to take a seat, scooting along the end of the bed to face the couch directly.

“I suppose your option _ is _ more logical, if you really insist,” he sighed in resignation, taking a hesitant step into the room and closing the door behind them, hoping they hadn't been recognized by the other guests. Tenma had removed his shoes, so Lunge did the same out of politeness.  
  
"It's the least I can do! Besides, now we get to chat a little longer," Tenma pointed out. "Where were we? I think… something about new beginnings…"

Lunge took his seat on the couch and considered the Japanese man. This was highly unusual, so much so that he had no situation in his life to even compare it to. His hand typed incessantly at his side, making notes and locating stored information.

**TENMA, Kenzo:**

**-Nervous chatterer** ** _._ **

“Maybe this meeting was seren… ser… serdi… sereni… dippy…?"

Damnit, Tenma was too drunk for that one. 

"What were the chances of you and I running into each other?" he tried again. 

"It seems foolish not to take advantage of it." 

Lunge smirked a little. Tenma was right… this was _ zufällig, _but did it really matter that much?

“Do you not have anyone better to spend your time with than someone like me?" 

"I meant it when I said I'd like for us to be friends, sensei!” the younger man replied emphatically. “Even if I had family or a girlfriend to see in town… I'd come and visit you too."

He turned his gaze downward. "After all, you became an important person in my life."

Lunge had been typing to himself so he didn't have to make eye contact, but Tenma's words caused him to unwittingly glance up. 

“That… doesn’t make any sense to my mind.”

The doctor was patient. 

"You know more about what I've been through than anyone else," he explained. "You made a psychological profile on me too; no one else knows me like that.” 

Tenma _ was _ handling the alcohol a little better than Lunge had anticipated, but they'd still both had a lot to drink. For someone as inebriated as Tenma was, he had some surprising insight. 

"That's… fair," Lunge admitted, warm in the face. "I just thought perhaps… you and Anna Liebert — ah, Nina Fortner," he corrected. "And little Dieter. It's… a real family, right there…"

Tenma blinked.

Him… and _ Nina…? _

He couldn't help it — the idea was so unexpected, and he was drunk enough, that he burst into laughter. He had the grace to cover his mouth and turn away, but he couldn’t _ stop _…! 

"Oh, no, I — I’m sorry for laughing, I just…! " he cried, trying to make himself settle down. "I'm sorry… I've _ never _ seen her that way. We're friends, of course! But, Lunge-san… she's more like a daughter to me. I _ am _ old enough to be her father! Nina should be with a man her age."

He grinned at a nonplussed Lunge. "We do sort of feel like a found family! But we all have our own lives to live, so we're happy to simply visit every so often. I don't think any of us are attached at the hip."

The German returned a dubious look. 

Frankly, he thought it unlikely that Tenma really had _ zero _ interest in the pretty young lady who was so closely entwined with Johan.

Something about this moment made him recall when, long ago, Tenma had sewed up a knife wound in Lunge's abdomen, despite the inspector holding a gun to his head. He remembered the eerie sight of his own blood pooling out onto the floor before he eventually fainted, and when he’d woken up, he had the cleanest sutures on his belly that he’d ever seen.

Why would he remember such a thing at a time like this…?

He raised his head to see Tenma making his way over to the couch. The doctor wobbled three steps over and flopped beside him there, hands clasped between his knees. 

"Lunge-san… I don't really know what you're supposed to do at times like this,” he confessed with an apologetic smile. “But I see no reason why we couldn’t be good friends… I sense we have much more in common than we think."

The professor's eyes shifted towards Tenma, breath hitching at that sweet smile, and all at once, his rational thought began to slip away. It was unlike himself to be distracted. Damnit, Tenma was so earnest.

"I made a choice in Ruhenheim,” the older man replied, exhaling uneasily. “I’d like to learn… how making friends works.”

Ever the empath, Dr. Tenma rested a hand on Lunge's shoulder to reassure him.

"There aren’t any textbooks we can learn from; only our experiences,” he pointed out with a pleasant air. “We’ve done alright enough that we're here together… don’t you think?"

It was safe to say that neither of them had been this close to a person who wasn’t dead or dying in a good few months. Instead of the tang of blood, the putrescence of death, the sickliness of disease, there were light, pleasant, masculine scents. Lunge recognized the shampoo Tenma had used — it was the specific mandarine scent that Breidenbacher Hof used in its haircare products. Tenma, for his part, could still detect that crisp and masculine touch of class that Lunge embodied even though they both smelled like beer.  
  
Tenma's stomach felt strange when he thought about how nice it was.  
  
The tight proximity made Lunge feel too close, so he really wasn't sure what to do aside from shy away from the touch. He was aware at this point that they were being far too familiar, especially for the actual nature of their relationship. They were only just becoming acquaintances, weren't they? Wasn't this excessive? 

"Doctor, go and get some rest," he insisted, watching Tenma sway on the spot. He stood up, helping the Asian to his feet, and escorted him back over to the bed. "It's late."

Tenma had some vague impressions that he was being too close, but he wasn't sober enough to be worried about it. He his mind was still lingering on the scent of Lunge's aftershave when he was quite abruptly relocated.

The sudden motion sent Tenma off balance, but the alcohol in his system increased his sense of inertia. He quickly put a foot down behind him, trying to correct an imbalance that wasn’t even there, but as he did so, his heel caught on a crease in the rug.

_"Hah—?!"_

A short, startled cry, and a hand flung out for _ anything _ to hang onto. The 'anything' wound up being Lunge's tie, and the doctor unwittingly yanked the former detective down over him as he toppled backwards onto the mattress, landing with a surprised grunt.

Dazed and faintly winded, still clutching that navy tie, Tenma stared up into Lunge's dark eyes with darkening cheeks.

"…"

It had happened so quickly. One moment Lunge had been helping Tenma to the bed, and the next he'd been yanked down on top of him. It had happened so fluidly that there was simply no way it could have been orchestrated, but it certainly _ hurt. _

Lunge felt his chest and hips collide with Tenma's, which winded the former inspector in turn.

_ I’m too old for this… _

With a groan, he pushed himself up off the mattress enough to look at the fool who had caused the incident. 

"Unh — "

There he was, clear as day: Dr. Tenma pinned down beneath the German's broad torso, flushed red and wide-eyed. However, when Tenma willed his body to move out from under his new friend, it refused, and he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly alarmed by it. By _ any _ of this, actually. Being pinned down by this gaunt, silver fox of an ex-detective thrilled something deep within him. Something that _ awoke. _

Mind muddled by alcohol and tie still clutched tightly in his hand, Tenma lifted himself up by it, possessed by the thing from deep within him.

Without a second thought about what he was doing, the doctor joined their lips together in an unmistakable kiss.

_" — ?!!" _

Lunge's eyes shot open. 

He was turning 50 soon, and in all those years on the planet, he had never been quite so _ astonished. _ A pair of lips were pressed warmly up against his own, which already was _ not _ a common occurrence, but the person who had just _ done _the kissing was a Japanese man! Kenzo Tenma… had just…?

Flushing scarlet, and after several seconds of aghast paralysis, Lunge jolted back from the other man, gaze blackening into a dangerous maelstrom. 

"_Christ _ — "

Tenma's clamped grip on his tie made a retreat impossible, which left him trapped in the same awkward position. 

"I… trust… you have an explanation for this," he whispered, deathly calm as he set his hand on Tenma's throat for recompense.

_Okay… settle down._

Tenma, however, was exactly as surprised as Lunge was. He slowly turned crimson in the face as he realized what he’d just done, heart breaking into a sprint. But the thing that had awoken inside him was not going to go back to sleep. It was here to stay, despite the myriad of confusing feelings that it had brought with it.

“I… don’t,” the doctor faltered, pupils contracting at the hand on his throat. This wasn’t the only physiological response, though — with Lunge on top of him like this, their hips flush — and, strangely enough, the threat of being choked — Tenma’s loins stirred to life. He didn’t understand what was even happening to himself. Why _ Lunge? _

Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit _ shit shit shit. _ What had he done?! This night was _ ruined. _

This _ relationship _was ruined.

“I don’t know — I’m sorry — I _ needed _ to, it felt… right… um...”

It was true, but even Tenma knew how ridiculous it sounded.

"_ 'Right' _?" Lunge seethed, breathing heavily as he scowled down at the doctor, and his hand closed just a little tighter over the man’s jugular.

It hadn't been any sort of distraction, attack or manipulation — the fool had kissed him because he’d _ wanted _ to?!

Tenma was still stammering out excuses, and Lunge just wanted him to shut up so he could process this. But glaring down at the mortified doctor, who did not struggle against him, the only thing the professor could think about was the kiss, and the startling sensation of his manhood stiffening right up against Tenma's.  
  
_ What… what the hell is this…? _ Lunge wondered, and then he kissed him back.

_“Mm — !!”_

Tenma did not protest or struggle. After taking just a moment to recalibrate, he yanked Lunge back down with him to kiss him, this time far more ravenous than before.

What was happening? _ Was _it happening? Was it just another dream, like that time, so long ago? It was little more than impressions of emotion and sensation now, but this experience, if it was real, matched those vague, half-forgotten recollections.

Tenma knew what he felt was taboo, but it was also _good. _

“L… Lunge-san,” the doctor uttered breathlessly into the kiss.

He’d been grabbed and kissed _ back; _ that wasn't something he'd expected to have to digest tonight either, let alone for the rest of his life. He’d _ kissed _ a man.

Lunge sank forward after they'd continued to lock lips, completely aglow in blush, and sure enough Tenma still lay panting, hazy, and hard beneath his body. Not that he would ever admit it, but he’d once had a dream like this too, long ago, and buried it as deep as it would go.

"_{Verdammt}, _ Tenma, you're _ drunk," _ he hissed, pushing him back against the mattress in simple mortification as it sank in what he'd just done.  
  
“So are you,” came Tenma’s simple rebuttal.

Lunge went chagrin. Tenma was right — where in the hell had his mind gone…?!

Heart racing a mile a minute, he lay beneath Lunge, chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths, and just gazed up at him with flushed cheeks. The man who had pursued him for so long and struck fear into his heart… Heinrich Lunge, kissing him.

“Why did you kiss me back?”

Lunge's eyes flashed at the brazen query. For a moment, he truly considered striking Tenma for his arrogance, but losing his temper had never served him well in the past, so he kept it at bay through sheer strength of will. 

"_I _ am the one who will be asking questions, Dr. Tenma," he warned him, pinning the Japanese man in place with his knee. 

His body was sending off strange signals, not the least of which being the rigidity in his trousers. It had been years since he'd been touched, since he felt another body against his own. But he was sure he didn’t remember any intimate encounter exciting him _ this _ much _ . _

He was fixed beneath Lunge’s eyes and body; fixed, formulated,_ wriggling. _ His physical arousal just grew more insistent. He grit his teeth and bit back a groan, wishing he’d had a little less to drink, but his hips were beyond his control and bucked up against Lunge’s knee zealously. Just feeling his own hardness was driving his body crazy. He had simply _ never, _ in his life, thought about men this way. So why this, and now?

“I don’t… know what’s happening,” he swore, breath heavy, as he reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers at Lunge’s upper jaw. “I don’t have answers.”

Lunge's brows drew together at the contact. There was no mistake that although Tenma may have been conflicted, these actions were of the man’s own volition; this ruled out the idea of him being coerced into it by someone else. And what _ else _ could Tenma hope to gain from this?

"You will think of them," Lunge suggested in a way that made it clear it was _ not _a suggestion, and his free hand was poised to input new information. "Otherwise my patience might run out." 

So far, there was nothing in Tenma's existing profile that shed light on the situation here. There had never been an obvious indication of homosexuality at any point, and it was too risky to proceed without more information. His understanding of who Kenzo Tenma was had gone up in smoke. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that this was a trap, or an especially brassy setup for blackmail.

But of course, Tenma was _ not _ that kind of man. Down to the depths of his soul, and no matter how much he had tried to fight it, he was a pacifist — and Lunge knew that. Blackmail did not heal or help others, so it wasn’t even an option that ever occurred to him. He was simply incapable of that kind of manipulation. He just… _ wanted. _

Attempting to explain anything at all to Lunge’s soul-piercing glare just made Tenma feel like a bitter fool. This was a man whose crux was logic and reason, not… whatever _ this _ was. Tenma didn’t _ have _sensible answers; he followed the heart, like he always did. 

What it told him to do now was wild, but he took the risk — he closed the gap between their lips again, half faint from the speed of his pulse, and he held the new kiss for a weighty moment. Surely, if he kept at it, the silver fox before him would succumb.

Lunge's breath certainly hitched when Tenma kissed him yet again, cradled him, drew him in close. He didn’t _ deny _ the surgeon’s touches, but the magnitude of the situation wasn't lost on him either.

"You _ cannot _ have been this lonely in Pakistan," the inspector certified, pulling back from the kiss again with the reluctance of a magnet. Even more inconvenient than all of these strange new feelings, he was shaking from nerves he couldn't suppress, which was quickly sapping the strength from his arms.

"_Nothing _ could be bad enough to make _ this _ seem like a good idea."

Lunge was under no illusions about himself or his appearance. _ 'Weird', 'creepy', _ for some, and _ ‘cold’, ‘aloof’, ‘bastard’ _ for others. There were not genius neurosurgeons — or anyone else, for that matter — lining up around the corner to kiss him.

“I wasn’t lonely because I wasn’t looking for someone,” a breathless Tenma tried to explain. He took note of the tremor and dropped his hands to steady Lunge’s biceps and support him. God, his biceps were even firmer than the forearms…! Why was _ that _so exciting?

"Tch… If you're not looking, then what is _ this?" _ Lunge challenged as Tenma gripped his biceps, and he tentatively tried to relax them.  
  
Lunge wasn’t a conventionally attractive person; Tenma knew that. This was an older gentleman whose years and experience showed in the lines on his face and in his receding hairline. He had narrow, cold eyes, larger than usual ears, a wide, hooked nose, and a thin mouth atop a long chin. He wasn’t exactly an A-list Hollywood superstar.

Those same eyes were alert and calculating, and they could strike fear and awe into the heart of anyone he was after — windows into the shrewd, calculating mind behind them. His cheekbones were sharp and angular, just a hint of the lean, strong and healthy figure he boasted. His confidence and intellect could capture anyone’s attention. This was still the man who was setting Tenma’s loins ablaze like no human being had ever before. 

“I don’t know, but… I think it’s alright…”  
  
He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard. And why the hell did it matter how Lunge looked? Tenma didn’t consider himself any particular treat for the eyes, and most Europeans weren’t really interested in Orientals, were they? _ Eva _ certainly only wanted him for his status — she’d often criticized his smaller, leaner physique in comparison to a _ ‘real’ _ German man. And yet, here Lunge was, with no conceivable motive, pressing his lips to Tenma’s with equal fervor.

When Lunge withdrew, Tenma urged him forward again with another kiss, tugging him down and rubbing his biceps reassuringly.

"What do you _ mean _ it's _ alright?" _Lunge sputtered between kisses.

_How could it be?_

And yet, the repeated kisses pushed Lunge’s mechanical thoughts further and further away, into the far recesses of his mind. Certainly that last schooner was really working its magic on him, because he'd broken out in a minor sweat and his inhibitions were weaker. He never would have done something like this sober.

A soft moan left Lunge’s chest as Tenma's body pressed up against his groin again. _ Scheiße… _

Instinct won over logic. He began to return the kiss, locking lips, looming over gentle Tenma and passing his fingers through the doctor's dark hair. Although it wasn't a usual style for men, the possibility of what it might look like splayed out across the pillows when it had been longer flickered hotly through the German’s imagination.

Tenma had taken a risk, and he’d reaped the rewards. Slowly, Lunge was beginning to reciprocate more, and Tenma became bolder with both kisses and touch. His fingers slid down Lunge’s strong chest and came to rest at the thighs, welcoming the strokes through his hair by leaning into them. He breathed hard through his nose as their kisses intensified, wondering hazily if he’d never known real _ passion _ until now.

“I _ wasn’t _ looking… but now, I see you,” was the best explanation Tenma had for Lunge while he kissed his neck. “It feels… good.”

He couldn’t explain why he didn’t want this man to get off of him or stop kissing him. All he needed was this inspector-turned-professor.

Lunge let out a slow, shaky exhale, gazing over the Asian with apprehension. "…" 

This wasn't right, of course. They were both men — it wasn’t _ illegal _ in Germany, but if anyone found out about them, it could cost them their entire careers. And yet, if they stopped right now, Lunge feared he would never be happy again. Even if it was just for this short moment, it had been too long since someone had _ wanted _ him. 

At that point Lunge got up off the bed, stepping away from it. Tenma sat up at once, a hot wash of prickling fear crashing over him, and he watched the other man with mounting anxiety. But Lunge only turned off the lights, and the moment he was concealed by darkness, he shed his jacket and tentatively approached the bed again. In the dark, it would be easier to ignore reality and focus on their tryst.  
  
It was only then that Tenma relaxed; he hadn’t frightened Lunge away. _ Thank god. _

"Where's the evidence…?" Lunge pressed, the mattress creaking under the weight of his knee as he continued to shake like he never had before. He couldn’t say whether it was more from nerves or alcohol.

His own hands far from steady, Tenma reached up to Lunge’s face again and cradled it to encourage him to keep going.

“Right here,” he replied, pulling Lunge in for another kiss. He held it for as long as he could hold his breath, then sank back onto the bedcovers with him. 

Tenma was gentle with his unexpected bed partner, every touch feather light and considerate, asking permission. 

“I don’t do anything I don’t believe in, Lunge-san.”

Lunge shuddered against Tenma's body — the body of a younger, more virile man, who, for reasons not yet clear, wanted _ him. _

The next time the doctor kissed him, Lunge's inhibitions eluded him at last. He pushed Tenma down onto the blankets and forced their lips together, feeling his loins’ eager response to the sensations of Tenma's slender body.  
  
It wasn’t… so different...

"Go on," the professor urged, determined to understand the man's feelings. "Tell me… is this because you're drunk?"

Truthfully, Lunge felt a sort of fear he hadn’t experienced in a long time — the fear of someone doing something to him that could actually _ hurt. _ If that person was Tenma, his faith in humanity might crumble to pieces.

“No.”  
  
Tenma’s reply came in a low groan, lifting his hips and pushing them up against Lunge’s. “I know it’s not. I… I’ve had… dreams… a few times… before this.”

He pushed his shin up between Lunge’s legs, reached for his tie, and undid the knot with drunken, clumsy fingers so that he could find more neck to kiss. 

“I know it sounds strange when I say it like that… but it’s true,” he insisted as he slipped the tie off and popped a button open.

What was happening?

Suddenly Tenma had removed Lunge's tie and started to undo his shirt. The knee that pressed against his crotch made the older man draw breath. 

"Dreams," he repeated dubiously, glaring down at the younger man. "Dreams, Tenma? ...And how did they go…?"

There was something about having this stoic and cool ex-detective lose his composure like this — shaking, flushed, short of breath — that tied Tenma’s stomach in knots. He held his breath and continued unfastening the Lunge’s shirt buttons, one at a time, to see what his body looked like. 

“They… always ended with…” he faltered, his hands pausing halfway down Lunge’s shirt, and he clutched the sides a little more tightly in anticipation. Oh, damnit, he couldn’t say it… 

“…They end… t-the way a man's dreams can… sometimes end...”

"…"

It was clear enough that Lunge’s cheeks grew warm at the confession, and he wondered just how he was supposed to unpack _ this. _ Did he have a point of reference at all? He was certain he did not. But there were plenty of intrusive thoughts at the moment, and decided that maybe he could wait to understand this one until later.

More of _ this. _ Each time they kissed, Lunge felt a hole in his heart fill back up, at least for a little while. Somehow, it was peaceful. 

"Do you believe in _ this… _?" 

The older man trembled above the doctor, and apprehensively set a hand on Tenma's hot cheek.

“I do,” swore the surgeon between kisses, finishing the job of opening Lunge’s shirt up. Now that they were in the dark, he wouldn’t be able to see the former inspector’s body so well, but he could _ feel _ it. He pushed his hands up against Lunge’s pectorals, feeling his flat, masculine chest up.

“I really… really do.”

Tenma felt hair, which he followed all the way down to Lunge’s waistband, tapering over his pecs and firm abdomen, but not his sides. Not too much, either, and more downy than it was coarse. This was a _ man. _ Something about that simple fact lit up Tenma’s insides, and he leaned forward to kiss the light trail of hair.

Lunge sat up closer to the doctor, exhaling his anxiety slowly out. The only thing that made sense in this situation was to take more control of it, which was how the doctor also ended up shirtless.  
  
Things had heated up so quickly that Tenma was sweltering under his clothing, so getting his shirt off was a relief. He tossed it aside, eager to get back to exploring these new sensations. 

Right now, Lunge's information-absorbing fingers were learning from this svelte Japanese man's body. As expected of an East Asian, Tenma had rather minimal body hair. He was still slightly underweight, but less malnourished than he'd looked at Ruhenheim. Healing, just as the professor himself was. 

"Good," Lunge sighed, his hair falling loose and brushing against the man's face below him.

Kenzo Tenma in his arms, at last.

When his fingers brushed over the wound in Lunge's side that the surgeon had closed himself, Tenma made a small ‘hm’ sound. Instantly, his examining touch became delicate and cautious. Just by touch, he could tell that Lunge had taken good care of it, which came as a relief. The scar was smooth, no longer ridged, and white from where the skin had healed over.

"Lunge-san," he whispered, closing his eyes when he felt the man’s hair caress his cheek. "I'm glad I could save you… that you're here with me."

The older man’s lips kissed and nipped lightly at Tenma's jaw, hovering over him in the dim light. He stared down at a man he'd once pointed a gun at with full intention to shoot, which was difficult for him to reconcile. Somehow, it electrified the encounter, but he wasn’t any less confused by it.

He leaned in to Tenma's damp chest and breathed in his masculine scent while the man's hands roamed his body. In turn he locked his muscular arms around Tenma's slender form, pressing their bodies close together.

Of course, Tenma was highly aware of their past violence too, but there was nothing about this moment that threatened him — it was a new side of Lunge — gentler, more affectionate. From the evidence he had, Tenma wondered if it was possible he was the very first person to witness it. Had Lunge been this way with his wife…?  
  
He was not inclined to think so, but he still had so much to learn about the neurotic profiler.

Clinging to Lunge’s shoulders, he kissed him wherever he could reach. The scent of their mingling sweat and aftershave and the feeling of their long, angular bodies grinding up together left him starving to know what _ else _ they could have until he could no longer keep his curious hands to himself. 

The doctor reached out, hesitated, and touched the tips of his fingers to the ridge in the professor's trousers, sizing it up. A tingle went up his spine and sparked inside his belly at the taboo.

He was touching…

“O-oh,” he uttered, resting his palm down on the bulge and swallowing back his heart. “This is…”

Lunge hissed in Tenma's ear when he was touched there, and he hesitated for a very real moment.

"Are you really… _ that _ sort?" he demanded, sitting back on his ankles and pushing his hair back out of his face. The words escaped of their own volition and came out much harsher than he intended.

"I've never — Tenma, I'm _ not… _ "

Tenma took his hand back, not wanting to go that far unless Lunge made it explicitly clear that he was okay with it.

"No, neither am I," the doctor apologized, hand hovering with uncertainty over the area before settling instead on Lunge's knee. "I don't… This is brand new to me. I never thought you were, either. Y-you were _ married, _ I was engaged… I never thought about things like this until now. But…"

He met Lunge's cold eyes in the dark, breathing heavily.

"Whatever this means… it feels good. It's important to me if it feels good for you as well."

Lunge didn't know _ how _he was feeling. Acceptance didn't come as easily to him, as a 50-year-old German man born in the aftermath of World War II, but it was somehow comforting to be assured that Tenma never considered him a homosexual, and that they were equally at a loss here.

Still, Lunge moved closer, lowering his hip to allow Tenma's hand to return to its former position upon his groin. 

_Permission. _

"I can speak my mind," he assured the smaller man. "But if you are toying with me… I might just kill you myself. I hope we're clear on that."

Tenma smiled shakily at the threat which he knew for a fact was not empty. He was secure, though — because of course he _ wasn't _ toying with him. He honestly couldn't even wrap his head around doing such a cruel thing to someone. 

"You won't have to tell me twice," the Asian assured, eager to feel that mutual hardness pressing up against him. This time, he had a chance to properly explore and visualize it as he felt its size and shape. 

No woman had ever felt, or could ever feel, like this. They seemed to fit together more closely, more naturally. Something about these strong arms was more _ home _than the soft, perfumed arms of a woman. 

Hands gripping tightly at Lunge's naked back, Tenma kissed at his shoulder and collarbone, anywhere that his lips could touch while their bodies were locked together like this. One hand dropped down to the small of Lunge's back, keeping a tight grasp so their bodies remained flush together. He shuddered when their arousals pushed up against each other, and it made him unexpectedly weak. He groaned, shivering from the bottom of his spine to the top, getting flushed from the inside out. 

"Please… don't let go," he heard himself pant, eyes shut tight.

Hearing Tenma, something unusual happened: Lunge's heart fluttered. 

He realized the difference immediately; this was not making out so much as it was a sensual embrace. Their bare chests were pressed up against each other, arms tightly intertwining the other's body, and neither man wanted to let go. They wanted warmth, contact, and reassurance from each other.

His sturdy fingers carded through his companion’s fluffy black hair again, and he kissed along his clavicle, then just lay his head on Tenma's chest and became still, simply taking in the sensation of being held. 

Lunge hadn't realized how badly he longed for a tender touch until he received it.

"Kenzo…" he sighed. 

Being called ‘Kenzo’ sent the most powerful tremor yet through the Japanese man’s body, and he had to pause for a minute just to recover from the blush. His given name was whispered to him with such tender familiarity. He shivered, letting the weight of the man above him sink him down further into the mattress. 

This was so nice. Just being held by someone, feeling the warmth and weight of another human being — both physically and their close presence. Tenma didn't want it to end.

Who knew that Heinrich Lunge could be so affectionate? So gentle and soft… like he was finally stepping outside of his work mind and just being purely himself. Was this who he _ was _? 

"H… Heinrich," the Japanese man whispered back, blushing back to his ears and coiling his legs a little tighter around Lunge's. 

'Kenzo'. 'Heinrich'. 

These men lived by their surnames, and the only exception were lovers. 

Kenzo Tenma… Lunge's truest passion: the man who was all he had left after his entire life fell to bits in one day. The man whose pursuit brought him more purpose, and dare he say, _ fun _, than anything else. 

Lunge had caught him, and now he never wanted to let him go. 

When Tenma's legs wrapped around him and their clothed manhoods met, Lunge instinctively rolled his hips straight into the motion to see how the younger man would react. Though the bullet in Lunge’s shoulder throbbed as he lifted himself up, he couldn't help a secretive smile…

There was nothing quite like uncovering the truth.

What happened was a strangled moan, tearing from Tenma’s throat. He groaned low from the friction, heart leaping in his chest and stomach flopping all over again, and he sucked in breath like a drowning man.

This ruthless pursuer… if he had run into _ anyone _ else this morning, Tenma knew distinctly he wouldn’t be in this situation. Reichwein, Grimmer, any of the dozens of people he’d connected with during his journey… only Lunge could have done this. He could only do this with _ Lunge. _

“Heinrich — “ Tenma gasped, ears and neck burning, “Please… nnngh, please do that… again… hah…”

Frankly, the German had never liked the sound of his own name. Though it was supposed to be only for lovers, toward the end of his marriage, he'd only heard his ex-wife using it disparagingly. Its use also meant he wasn't at work, which was seldom — no, never — a good thing. But now, as Tenma whispered it, he didn't hate it quite so much. 

_'Do that again' _…? he wondered. Meaning that he was sexually stimulating Tenma, who craved more. There was an instinct of societal alarm within, but Lunge forced it down for the time being, and obeyed the request of the younger man beneath him. 

Hearing Tenma in _ that _voice… Fascinating. There was so much to learn, and here he was, typing it down one-handedly as the head of his manhood pushed right up between Tenma's thighs.

_This is wrong, this is dirty, this is wrong, _ Tenma’s mind screamed out, but he shoved those thoughts back deep inside his mind. What he could _ not _ silence was the continuous stream of quiet moans as he and Lunge ground together, lifting his hips to grind and shift back with equal force to match him.

The doctor’s nails dug gently into the inspector’s back, and he listened to the quiet dignity of Lunge’s rhythmic, labored breaths. Did it feel as good for Lunge as it did for him? Tenma didn’t know how to ask, or what to do to make it feel even better for his partner.

Lunge’s hardened ridge pushing up exactly between the highest point of his thighs, creating friction directly against his member, left Tenma panting and squirming with electric pleasure. His legs parted, breath quickening, and he held onto Lunge’s lower back, every touch shy and reserved. He didn’t stray lower than the thighs, too polite to even _ think _about requesting it yet.

“Does it… feel good for you?”

"Shh." 

Lunge pushed harder and lower, his cock jutting up against the Asian man's perineum. That seemed to make Tenma whimper, different from his little groans. He rarely heard sounds like this with women, but he definitely wanted to hear more of it from _ Tenma. _

It made him feel like he was still in control.

He strengthened his grip and pressed his hand deep between Tenma's legs. Again, he thought it didn't feel _ so _ different; it was just a little... further under than he was used to.

Tenma had known that this area contained the perineal nerve and its stimulation could be very pleasurable to some, but it still came as a surprise to him to actually receive it. He had never gone so far as to touch himself here, much less have someone _else_ do the touching. Eva hadn’t been the greatest lover on the best of days, and she’d certainly never dominated him like this, either.

Lunge was everything Tenma hadn’t known he needed: a strong man who took charge unflinchingly, even in uncharted waters.

Not wanting to make Lunge do all the work, Tenma reached up to the other man’s pecs, tracing his fingers experimentally over the muscles and rubbing his thumbs over the nipples.

Did men like this…? 

Lunge exhaled slowly at the servicing. He was trying to pay attention to the man beneath him while more or less convincing himself this didn't count as _ 'Homosexualität', _ despite everything that was happening. He had to ignore it all and focus on what really mattered: Tenma’s satisfaction. 

"I want you to come," Lunge professed in a whisper, his fingers tenderly caressing Tenma's most private area.

The whisper and the touch send a violent shiver through the doctor’s body — not an orgasm, but perilously close. He hissed through his teeth, squeezing Lunge’s chest, and pushed his lower half against the other man’s hand and cock.

He trembled at the command, the desire behind it and its meaning… the corkscrew sensation in his belly was tightening.

“Please,” he begged in a whisper, his grinding becoming more frantic. “Make me come…”

There was nothing Lunge wanted more in that moment. He pictured Tenma as the abstract, nebulous being he'd always seen, a genderless thing, an _ idea _ , for too long — this was a tangible human being beneath his fingertips. He would bring Tenma the satisfaction he was _ owed. _

Tenma. 

_Tenma, Tenma, Tenma, Tenma…!_

When that wasn't enough, he forced Tenma's trousers open and yanked them down his legs. Stubbornly, he fingered Tenma through his briefs, feeling the heat inside him the deeper he pressed. 

The way Tenma sucked in air just then might as well have been his very first breath. His body contorted as the stimulation to his sensitive zone electrified his spine and tingled to the tips of his fingers.

“_Fuck _ — ” he gasped, nearing hyperventilation as the pressure reached a critical tension point. “Ah — _ ahhh! _”

Penetration through his underwear and rubbing his perineum was all he needed. Pushed over the edge in just seconds after that, Tenma cried out, turning his head and muffling his voice with a pillow.

_“Lunge!!”_

The pressure released, and Tenma’s body spasmed once more. This time, heavy spurts of ejaculate emptied out into his underwear, seeping through the cotton briefs, and the doctor saw stars.

This… was heaven.

He rode his orgasm for as long as he could. A few short seconds could have been eternity for all he knew — he floated for the entirety of it. When he drifted back down to earth, it was with a groan as his limbs went slack and he had to remember how to breathe normally again.

Lunge keenly observed the expressions Tenma made as he hit his climax.

To know that these faces were caused by Lunge himself somehow brought him a sense of pride. He'd succeeded. Tentatively he moved his hand upwards to the stiffness between Tenma's hips, and lo and behold, he'd caused Tenma to come in his underwear.

"Heh…" Lunge breathed as he swirled a finger through the creamy dampness. He’d been victorious.

Tenma was certain that he’d never been so muddled in his life — it took him a couple minutes to reorient himself, remember who and where he was, what had lead up to this.

Lunge.

_Lunge, Lunge, Lunge, Lunge._

Had he really never done this before? His confidence had been so great… 

Tenma reached weakly out to him, brushing his knuckles up against Lunge’s chest again.

“Lunge,” he panted, getting a weak hold on the man. “That was… it felt so…”

But… as far as he could tell, Lunge hadn’t come yet? That was hardly fair.

"Y-you didn't get to…"

The older man paused once he sat back from the breathless, satisfied Kenzo Tenma, and listened to his attempted proposition. It was just like him to insist on his partner's mutual satisfaction, even though they'd never intended the night to conclude this way. He was probably as considerate a lover to that Eva Heinemann, and anyone else he dated.

**TENMA, Kenzo: **

**\- Considerate lover…**

Lunge turned and slipped his long legs over the side of the bed to sit up straight.

"That's alright," he eventually declined with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll take care of it. You should clean up in the bathroom first.”

With difficulty, Tenma sat up partway, propping himself up on his elbows, a lock of sweat-damp hair drifting into his face. He gazed up at Lunge as he caught his breath, cheeks flushed. Why wouldn’t he…? It was likely, he realized, that Lunge wasn’t ready for another man to do that yet… 

"No, please — go ahead," the doctor insisted, sitting up all the way now. "I don’t need it; I can take care of this from here…"

As Lunge quickly replaced his shirt, he impassively gave Tenma's half-nude body a once over, particularly eyeing the damp undergarments. For a moment he wondered if this was just another strange alcohol-fueled dream. 

"Ah… thank you," he murmured, rising delicately to his feet. "Then… Excuse me." 

With that, Lunge reached the bathroom in a few strides and closed the door behind him. 

"Tch…" 

Once Lunge disappeared into the bathroom, Tenma took some tissues from the dispenser on his night stand and mopped his essence up with a blushing grimace. At least it was contained to one place…

His face burned hot as he mulled over what he'd just done, and he changed his underwear (then, thinking better of it, all of his clothing) before Lunge could return. He couldn't know, but his mind was in the same territory as Lunge's — wondering if this was only another dream.

This one, though… it didn't feel like the others, somehow. In his other dreams, hadn't they _ both _ finished…? 

The doctor patted both of his cheeks to snap himself back to reality — no, this _ was _ real, and now he had to figure out what all of this meant. No matter what happened, this had just changed his relationship with Lunge forever, and his entire sense of self and his own sexuality had been upended. 

Another man… it had felt so good, but wouldn't he have _ known _before this…? What about Lunge? If he was being plagued by the same mysteries, perhaps it was something they should sort out together.

Lunge stayed in the bathroom long enough to take care of his indiscretion — it couldn’t be helped. He washed his face and hands and fixed his appearance up, but the more he stared at his reflection, the harder it was for him to understand why Tenma had done this with him.

Lunge had no clue what it meant about his own identity, and if Tenma had no answers either, it was going to be difficult to find the truth in both of them. A little humbled, the older male stepped out of the bathroom to go and collect his coat and saw that Tenma was just zipping himself up. Lunge averted his eyes.

Tenma sat politely on the edge of the bed, fingers laced together and hands sandwiched between his knees. He stared down at his black socks, and took a deep breath. The tension was palpable. 

"You also… want to understand what this means, don’t you?”

Lunge straightened up instinctively. Tenma was still so red… and that made sense.

"Maybe not… It's not a case to be solved, and I'm not a detective. Perhaps maybe it's better to just let things be…"

Hesitantly he met Tenma's eyes with a gentle expression.

Tenma patted the space next to him on the bed to invite Lunge to sit with him, meeting the look with one to match.

“It’s _ not _ a case, but I do think it’s worth trying to understand,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what this means for us. I just know that it felt good, and that I like your company. Whatever this ends up being… I don’t want it to wedge us apart.”

"We were not together to begin with," Lunge advised, even as he sat down beside the younger Asian man.

"You… can't pretend anything is going to change. Tomorrow, doctor, you will leave. I likely will not see you again."

He watched Tenma flush uncomfortably, then added, "It's alright. I'm not naïve."

Tenma shook his head, brow furrowed.

“It’s not alright with me. I’m saying I want to see you again any time I’m home in Germany. Why _ couldn't _ we let this change things for us, just a little?”

Were their differences so irreconcilable that Lunge was certain that they would never cross paths again? ...He’d been wrong before.

"How could we?" asked the former inspector with a downcast gaze. His frustration curled his hands into tight, tremulous fists.

"You must do your job, Tenma. You, saving lives… That is the most important thing of all."

“Of _ course _ that’s important,” the doctor agreed, keeping his gaze steady. “But staying in touch with you isn’t going to prevent me from doing that job.”

He gave Lunge a huff of a laugh, tilting his head in amusement. “It’s almost the new millennium. It gets easier to stay in contact with each passing year — we have email, cellular phones; even if I’m abroad most of the year, it’s still possible to easily keep in touch."

Tenma hesitated, but then he emboldened himself and set a hand onto Lunge’s. 

“But it’s only possible if it’s also what you want.”

Lunge set his jaw as Tenma's hand rested upon his own, and he shifted uneasily. One letter at a time, he began to type.

"I don't _ not _want it…"

He took his hand back and stood up, beginning to pace in agitation. 

Tenma’s eyes followed him from where he remained on the bed, starting to get some secondhand anxiety just from watching him. “I'd like to show you how it feels for me,” he offered. “A friendship between us won’t be risky.”

"If all you were asking for was friendship, you should not have kissed me," Lunge replied, and Tenma could have sworn the room temperature dropped a couple degrees.

“Y-you're right,” Tenma admitted, pushing his hair back. “I’m glad we can be friends now, but after what just happened… maybe…"

He rested his fingers on his lips, cheeks warm just from thinking about the kisses, but his brow furrowed as he tried to mull the situation over in his mind.

“Do you think this makes us homosexuals?” the doctor asked in a quieter voice.

Lunge stopped in his tracks, affording Tenma an ominous glower which the poor doctor withered beneath. 

"You shouldn’t talk like that," Lunge muttered, turning to the couch and taking a seat near the end where he'd set his water glass. "Speak for yourself. Find your own answers. Why would I have them? _ I _ certainly never expected…" 

Tenma burned with humiliation, distractedly taking a sip of water from his own glass to cool down.

“I haven’t thought much about it,” he mumbled, cheeks hot. “I… I _ have _ liked women, s-sort of, but… I — I wanted to kiss _ you. _ I… it… it was really… n-nice. I liked… touching your face.”

He took his water to the couch with Lunge, holding it with both hands as he settled onto the cushion next to him.

Lunge's brow knit together as Tenma took a seat beside him, and he gave him quite the side eye. 

"Tch… I'd suggest you save your identity crisis until you are sober,” he sniffed. “See how you feel in the morning, doctor."

A hot blush had run up into his pale, sunken cheeks, and he tapped his fingers against the couch like an automaton. 

"If you feel nothing when you wake up, that's… okay."

Transferring his drink to one hand, Tenma reached out to Lunge and rested the free hand on his knee.

“I become a bit more painfully honest when I drink, Lunge-san,” he confided. “I get the impression you’re the same way. I understand your concerns, but if I feel like this right now, I promise you nothing will have changed by morning.”

He lowered his gaze, smile faint, but he gave Lunge’s knee a fond pat. Lunge did not shy away from the touch.

After a pause, their eyes tentatively met. 

“Do _ you _ think you’ll feel different in the morning?”

"No… if it's you, I'll feel the same…" the German admitted after an apprehensive pause. "I could never get you out of my head, and now I understand why."

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

"I'm not afraid of not seeing you again, Tenma. You have your true vocation, and I want nothing less than that for you."

Tenma’s smile grew back to its full potential, his warm brown eyes giving Lunge a tender and affectionate look.

“I may be traveling all over the world from now on, but I’ll never forget Germany. I’ll always come back to see everyone… including you.”

Overcome by bold impulse, Tenma reached out and pulled Lunge into a gentle embrace. He felt the man stiffen at first, then slowly relax.

“I promise we’ll meet again after tonight if you’d like that,” he continued. “Just… that is… if you do, would you… mind waiting for me? If you don’t meet anyone else until then…”

"A relationship?" Lunge clarified wearily. "Through email…?"  
  
It seemed like that was the only kind of relationship people could tolerate him in.

Tenma nodded his confirmation. “But… _ more _ than just email.”

Logically, he knew how difficult it would be to maintain anything long distance. They were both very busy men, and emails were likely to be sparse at the _ best _ of times, but Tenma was willing to put the effort into it that was necessary. He had to show Lunge that. Leaning closer to him, he daringly pressed a more sober kiss to his lips and gave his good shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“It could work,” the Asian whispered. “I want to keep seeing you… Heinrich.”

Lunge, though wary, became less stern as Tenma gave him the reassuring kiss. Hesitantly, he rested his large hands upon Tenma's slender hips. 

"I've… worked quite hard to find my footing after all those years chasing you, doctor. If you… ask this of me… then go and change your mind, or meet someone else… I won't be upset," he breathed, unable to look anywhere but at the floor. 

"…But you must never contact me again if you do."

Tenma responded first with a solemn nod. “That’s fair,” he agreed quietly. “But I would never ask you to wait for me if I weren’t willing to do the same. There really must be so many things on your mind right now, giving you anxiety…”

Lunge was unfamiliar with having anyone being concerned with _ his _ wellbeing, and was somewhat reluctant to give Tenma the benefit of the doubt.

_What if… _

The doctor sighed, resting a hand over Lunge’s on his hip. “I know I’m young compared to you. You deserve to be settled down with someone, and not only have a… a fling. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

To confirm his promise, Tenma sealed it with one more kiss.

“I want to know you better.”  
  
Lunge drew back, a little dazed.  
  
**TENMA, Kenzo:** **  
** **\- In a relationship.** **  
** **  
** _ With me, _he thought, but wasn’t ready to commit it to his hard drive just yet… not before tomorrow.

"Thank you," said the greying older man as he stood up, scooting the smaller man out of his lap to begin turning down the sofabed to sleep in. "For understanding. Well, for _ trying… _ however it turns out."

"Thank you, Lunge-san," he murmured, handing him a pillow and neatly folded blanket from the cupboard. Expression tender, Tenma tucked the edge of the blanket under the sofabed's mattress. 

"Let's bring each other happiness."

One nervous goodnight kiss was shared before the two finally settled into bed — their own respective ones, of course.

Lunge was not about to leap headfirst into this insanity, no. He would dip his toes and wade in at his own time. If he didn't like it, he could simply get out and leave it behind, but what Tenma was saying was true — they had a chance to try something new that really could make them happy.

Tenma blinked as his eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness of the room. After a moment, he was able to detect the gentle orange light from the street lamps below their window, casting shadows of the tree leaves and Venetian blinds on the walls and ceiling in the room. At last, the doctor could drop his head onto the pillow. When he did, he let out a quiet sigh and shut his eyes.

He could hear Lunge settling in on the sofabed — the rustle of fabric, the creak of the furniture, his quiet breathing — and in the semidarkness, barely make his shape out under the blanket.

_ "Gute Nacht," _ said the taller man as he settled against the pillow and closed his eyes.  
  
Then, in a whisper, "…Kenzo."

When he heard the bid goodnight, Tenma smiled reflexively, pushing his face into his pillow. He was _ happy, _ he thought, cheeks hurting a little. That pain was worth it; he was nervous and excited for every possibility waiting before them. What would their future be?

Only time would tell, but he was eager to find out.

"_Oyasumi _… Heinrich."

#  **End**


	2. Exceeding Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor at Lunge's doorstep in the dead of night comes bearing unfortunate news.
> 
> Cw graphic sex scene M/M

It had been a long day.

Heinrich Lunge spent his waking hours teaching cops how to catch killers just as he always had, and when he returned to an empty house in the evening he wished only for creature comforts. It seemed his age was starting to get to him; although a very fit man of 50, the tireless work had begun to take more out of him than usual.

At least now, at the end of the week, he could unwind in the loungeroom with a small fire and a nice glass of whiskey, relaxing his bones.

Faithful Klaus, his German Shepherd, slept at his feet without fail, keeping him company and guarding him from any perceived evil. The dog was highly disciplined, as was Lunge himself, which meant that anything that caused him to prick his ears and get his owner’s attention was worth addressing.

"What...?" murmured the former inspector. "You've already been out, and it's raining..."

The dog responded with an insistent _ ‘boof’, _ hurrying down the hall to the front door.

Lunge sighed, steely eyes gliding to the drawer where he kept his gun.

_ Don't be foolish... Visitors at this time of night? _

Then came the knock.  
  
Klaus danced his front paws at the door, nails clicking on the wood floorboards, and unleashed another soft bark that dropped to a baritone whine of impatience. He wagged his tail so hard that it nearly resembled a spinning helicopter blade — whoever was here, he was _ excited _ for. There were only two people in the world who could excite him this much, and one of them was Lunge. The other... was in Ethiopia, and had been for the last month and a half.

Surely... surely, the dog was mistaken? 

With some trepidation, the retired detective resigned himself to follow his dog and unlatch the front door’s deadbolts. 

When he swung it open, standing there on the porch in the rain was none other than Kenzo Tenma, an Asian gentleman considerably younger than himself, carrying two little suitcases at his sides and the most defeated expression upon his face.   
  
Caught completely unawares, Lunge took an involuntary step backwards, blinking once to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting.

Klaus barked and jumped excitedly, but the professor quieted him with a little ‘_ ts-ts _’. It couldn't be; it was too soon. This man wasn't supposed to be here yet — not at all — but he was, and after a long moment, Lunge managed to find the one word he needed.

_ "...Kenzo?" _   
  
Tenma slowly raised his eyes to meet the former detective, the sight of whom did very little to lift the deadened look on his face. Out on the wet street, a taxi cab began to drive away, and the rain quickly soaked the Japanese doctor's clothes and hair. 

"Heinrich..." 

He hardly registered the large dog that so happily licked his fingers. For now, he just... needed to be _ home. _

_ "T... tadaima..." _ _   
_ _   
_ A thousand questions raced through Lunge's head, with the alcohol minutely slowing his deductions. He didn't understand this, his partner's expression, or the fact that Tenma had returned nearly two months earlier than scheduled. They’d only met up a few scarce times since that auspicious day at the Breidenbacher Hof hotel, where drinks had turned into something beyond anything they could have foreseen: the genesis of a romantic relationship that was eight months and running. For most of that time, Tenma was off in third-world countries helping ailing children as part of Doctors Without Borders. Somehow, the long distance made it easier for them to adjust — neither of them had so much as _ considered _ being with another man before, and their relationship had proceeded at a painstakingly slow pace.   
  
Yet truly genuine feelings had emerged, and whenever the time came that Tenma was in Düsseldorf again, he would happily stay with Lunge, where for a little while all things seemed right in the world. If Tenma were here early, with _ this _ sort of look on his face, then something was wrong — and Lunge didn’t like that one bit.   
  
Steeling himself, he began his interrogation. "What is the meaning of this?”   
  
The man before him was silent and expressionless for a long moment. The only sound came from the thunderous rain that crashed down around them, and the occasional soft whine from Klaus.

"I... _ had _ to... I'm sorry for not calling, I just..." he heard himself utter and trail off. "I'm sorry, H —”   
  
All at once, his eyes burned hot and nose tickled, and tears began gushing forth. The doctor stifled the sob that abruptly made its way up his throat, but he was no match for the barrage that followed. 

Oh, damnit... he hadn't wanted to fall apart at the seams like this, but it seemed that the time had come regardless of his wishes. Tenma slowly raised a hand and hid his face behind it, clenching his teeth as he sobbed quietly there on the doorstep. 

This... wasn't easy for Lunge to watch.

Not a grown man... Not _ Tenma. _

The tall German balked, chest tightening with discomfort.

Interrogation over.

"H-hey... don't — this is..."

Appropriate reactions to this sort of emotional display? There had to be something in his hard drive...

_ Comfort. Comfort him, damn it… _

_ T _ _ his is _ your _ Tenma. _

He set a hand upon the weeping man’s shoulder, and boldly, potentially in front of any nosy neighbours, pulled him into his broad chest.  
It occured that this may not have been the wisest choice when Tenma then broke down entirely — the doctor’s sobs wracked his whole body, shaking Lunge with them, and his tears fell heavily and stained the professor’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out again when Klaus nosed against his leg. “I’m sorry, I just… I had to s-see you. Please don’t be angry…”

It sounded so pathetic to his own ears, begging his _ partner _ not to be angry for coming home earlier than expected. But after everything, he just wanted to curl up in bed with the person he loved most, with their dog, and decompress without a fuss.   
  
Simply holding Tenma on the doorstep was not going to be enough, the German realised. Whatever had him so distraught would take time to process.

"I'm not angry, you fool," Lunge sighed, and knelt to take the luggage. "Get in here… Whatever’s the matter with you, a drink or two will help."

That sounded amenable to Tenma right now. He stepped inside and politely removed his shoes, then once the front door was closed and they were out of the wet and the cold, he wiped his eyes onto his hands, valiantly trying to stifle his tears to little avail.

"Th… thank you..." he uttered, a tender expression on his face as he watched Lunge stow his suitcases in the foyer. “Is there… any Mont Blanc left...?"  
  
The professor glanced over his shoulder.

"Who else would I drink it with?" he sighed, opening a fine liquor cabinet of dark mahogany and withdrawing the bottle. Klaus trotted over and lay down in his dog bed at the foot of the sofa, which Lunge brought two glasses of vintage wine to and seated himself upon.  
  
Tenma practically collapsed onto the sofa when he reached it, and when he sank into its familiar, soft cushions, he thought that perhaps he might just merge with them altogether and become one with the furniture. He patted Klaus's soft, warm head since it was in reach, and welcomed the wine glass that was offered to him.

The familiar scent of the wine brought nostalgia as he sipped, but reclining against Lunge felt even better. Tenma leaned heavily against him once he’d settled, letting his body understand that he was home at last. He was safe here.

"No... you _ wouldn't _ have drunk it by yourself," the doctor conceded, swirling the contents of his glass morosely. "This is comforting… thank you.”

"Tenma..." Lunge breathed, eyes firmly averted. "Take a little time to breathe, and we can talk."   
  
He shifted slightly in his seat, left hand stimming in typing gestures as he input this influx of unexpected data. It wasn't easy to come to terms with, especially after so long, and he simply didn't know how to act.   
  
Tenma sniffled, sighed, and nodded, just resting his head against Lunge's shoulder and nursing his drink until he felt a little calmer — at least calm enough to breathe properly. The proper amount of oxygen flowing to his brain, combined with the alcohol, reduced his stress and provided some more clarity. After doing as instructed, he felt ready to divulge the issues at hand. 

"What happened over there was horrific," he whispered, swiping his knuckles across his damp cheeks. "So many tragic deaths..."  
  
The brunet bit lightly at his lip, feeling his heart sink. He was relieved that this was not about their relationship, but at the same time, there was not a lot he could say to comfort poor Tenma when it came to losing patients. It was inevitable, as a doctor, after all... especially one with the DWB.

Closing his eyes, a sigh left Lunge's chest. "It _ must _ have been dire... to compromise such a fine doctor as yourself..." he offered.   
  
Tenma nodded again, and he took a small, contemplative sip of his wine.

"That’s an understatement," he whispered at the rim of his glass. "Our patients are dropping like flies, more dying than being cured, dying faster than we _ could _ cure them. I've... never lost so many."

A low, shuddering sigh left his chest as the tears flowed afresh.

"Ethiopia is being decimated by the Nemesivirus. S-so many good people, even _ children... _ suffering terribly, then dying afraid and in pain. Alone but for a stranger in a biohazard suit who cannot even touch them, much less offer a comforting embrace…”   
  
He broke again, trailing off and covering his eyes with his free hand, only able to sob quietly. Lunge thought of his grandson, still just a toddler, and even then he could scarcely imagine the pain Tenma must have just endured. One after the other, with so little that could be done — it would distress even the most hardy detective.

"Christ. ...Damn it, I..."

He’d never seen Tenma like this before, but it made perfect sense now. Taking a fortifying sip of wine, Lunge turned towards him. 

"I know nothing I say is going to help how you're feeling, but... you _ must _ think about the ones you've saved, and the good you've done. How much worse off things would be without you there."   
  
The weary doctor hunched his shoulders in shame. 

"I abandoned them," he despaired. "I _ shouldn't _ have come home; it’s so selfish. What about the survivors who need comfort and counseling, the survivors whose family died of the same virus _ they _lived through? These people’s lives have been completely upended, they’ll never be the same again, and — "

He shook from another hard sob, and took another gulp from his wine to keep it from sloshing out of its glass.

"How could I have turned my back on them?" he went on. "I shouldn't be here."  
  
"Hmph... is that so?" the German replied, narrow brows drawing together. "I know you, and you'd never have sent yourself back when lives needed saving; you're too stubborn for that. I'm right, aren't I?" he asked pointedly when Tenma hunched further in response. "Your superiors gave you an early discharge — that's entirely a cost-benefit situation. If you've been sent back, it means they had someone to take your place... and that it was truly necessary to let you go for now. In other words, you are not useful in this state... to _ anyone." _

He drained the glass of wine and poured himself another, topping up Tenma's glass as he did so. 

"To my mind, it was the right choice. They need you at your best, and in this line of work they must understand you are only human. You cannot help anyone if you break."  
  
The moment the glass was topped off, Tenma drew the rim to his lips, drawing a long sip from it as he listened to his beau. He was silent for a long while, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle, while he turned the words over in his head. 

"As it is, I may only be here for a week before my employment may be in question. Considering everything that I’ve already experienced," he whispered, _ "Should _ I have broken? If I was a liability to them in the end... how did I let this happen? I thought... I was prepared for this. I knew the survival rate of Nemesivirus going in — I knew the symptoms, stages, decay — How could I have... let everyone down like this...?"

He turned his head to look into Lunge's dark eyes. "I shouldn't have let anyone talk me into coming home. I'm a _ doctor. _ I should have been stronger than this..."   
  
Still unsure, but bolstered by tonight's alcohol consumption, Lunge set his hand on Tenma's knee and squeezed lightly.   
  
Just _ one week, _ to be with Tenma and help him find his strength again... it wouldn’t be easy, but the responsibility was _ his. _

"A human being first, _ then _ a doctor, Kenzo,” the brunet emphasized. “If the raw realities of this pandemic _ didn't _ affect you, there would be something wrong. The doctors who do what you do — it's possibly the hardest job in the world, and you must take time to yourself after such ordeals, because they need you at your best. I know you’d rather be helping others than staying here, but... I'll support you while you are."   
  
Tenma took another long drink from his wine, ignoring the bitter, fermented sting in his mouth and down his throat. 

"It's not like that," he muttered. "If I couldn't be there, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side." 

He rested his free hand over Lunge's hand on his knee, the pads of his fingers brushing over the battered digits of an ex-detective. He couldn't help but ponder what sort of hardships Lunge had undergone in his own job — the sorts of things that kept him up at night, that had pushed his family away from him. What sort of tragedies he'd had to stomach and then move on from like they had never happened. Being shot, stabbed, choked, beaten within an inch of his life...

"I'm... I'm glad you _ are _ here for me," the noiret whispered. "It's... merely a hard pill to swallow. But I _ am _ in the best hands possible to recuperate. No one understands like you do."   
  
Lunge shook his head a little. Certainly, no one understood Tenma's identity like the man who had once 'become' him, but that was a far cry from being the best person to comfort him. He was acutely aware that women were better suited for such roles, and he was not. 

"As an ex-cop on the spectrum... I can hardly agree with you. I'm not good at this at all, but you… know… how I feel.”

For the first time in weeks, Tenma's expression softened, and his hand tightened over Lunge's. It was faint, and laden with exhaustion, but he smiled for his partner.

"That's all I need," he explained. "You don't have to be a therapist, or even good at comfort. Just yourself... that's all I want."

Somehow, Tenma could always make Lunge feel worthwhile — he'd become one of the rare people whose opinions mattered to him. Sipping his wine, his eyes flicked over Tenma's teary features, and he felt a tender ache grow within him — the kind he'd felt every day since the doctor's departure. 

**TENMA, Kenzo:** **  
** **\- My boyfriend.**   
  
"You trusted me to be here for you. The least I can do is try..."

Of course, Tenma had missed Lunge’s neurotic and awkward ways as well, and the comfort of simply being back in his presence was potent — he could only soak in it. They both needed a chance to readjust to this mutually healing, intimate presence.

“You try enough,” Tenma sighed, reaching up and gently touching the side of his boyfriend’s face, feeling the coarseness of stubble beneath his adroit fingers. “Thank you for this...”

Slowly, he leaned in to close the distance between them and pressed their lips together in a small, chaste kiss.

The gesture left Lunge flustered, who even now had to prepare and psych himself up for this sort of thing. It wasn't that he didn't want it — he _ did, _ but 50 years of ingrained social tradition left its mark.

"T-Tenma," he whispered, fingers curling. "Nnh..."

His partner understood, and took another long sip of his wine before setting it aside on the coffee table (onto a coaster, of course). 

"I'm sorry... that was sudden, wasn't it...?" Tenma asked softly when he turned back to his sweet, stoic man. "Do you need a minute?"

He rested a hand on Lunge's bicep, staying close while respecting his autonomy. He could enjoy this moment for what it was: just being back in Lunge’s arms, warm and comforting on its own. There had been a little alcohol on his breath when Tenma had first arrived, which meant that he'd likely had some whiskey before bed, and frankly... Tenma wanted to catch up on the inebriation. 

He took the wine glass again, sipping it and watching Lunge through his peripheral vision.

The older German swallowed slightly, but refused to nod.

"The truth is... I've missed you," he murmured, finding it hard to look up at him. Another glass down — he would have preferred whiskey if he was by himself, but wine with Tenma was quite acceptable. "It's just the two of us, so..." 

He tilted his head into Tenma's hand further, smiling faintly. Certainly, he needed more to drink, but he would take advantage of the unexpected gift of his partner's company. "I don't mind..."

Tenma let out a faint, sharp exhale that could have been a relieved laugh, and leaned more heavily against Lunge now that he had permission, hands wandering more boldly than before onto his thigh.

"I've missed you as well, Heinrich," he whispered, daring to present another kiss to those thin lips, and this one lingered a few seconds longer than the last one. "I know it’s not easy being away for so long, and it gets harder every time. I didn't feel like I was really _ home _ until I saw your face. Now... all I want is you, and... maybe a few more drinks."

"I can manage that," the German answered in amusement, unable to help the unconscious blush as Tenma's hand moved onto his thigh.  
"I have not forgotten the Japanese custom that one pours another's drink..."

Tenma flushed at the statement, having not thought about it in some years, but it was true — not that he had much connection to his heritage any longer, it touched him nevertheless that Lunge cared so much.

He nodded, surrendering a shy smile, and affirmed: "If you're offering, then... I would like that very much." 

Within the hour, the Mont Blanc was gone, but they had enjoyed it in good company, as was intended. Warm conversations were had in each others’ arms, Tenma’s heavy heart began to lighten, and he wanted to show his gratitude to the taciturn man who’d made a place for him in his life. His hands stayed close to Lunge's thighs, but this time, they began to creep inward before resting over the front of his pyjama trousers, atop the cotton fabric. 

The older man exhaled through his nose, his eyes fluttering closed when Tenma's hand boldly ventured upwards.

"Hh..."

The Asian glanced quizzically at his partner with a heavy blush, gauging his reaction. 

Would he be in the mood, so soon after arriving? 

Despite his apprehension, Lunge couldn't deny the way his body was physiologically reacting, and in any case... this was better than watching Tenma cry. He managed to incline his head in consent. 

Tenma proceeded to gently rub his palm against the stirring firmness beneath the fabric. His own sense of floaty contentment let him know that he was enjoying a nice buzz as well — he may not have had as much as Lunge, but then his tolerance for alcohol was much lower. 

"I... missed this," he confessed shyly, pressing his forehead against Lunge's sternum. "There were some damned lonely nights, and... all I could think about was _ this..." _

Lunge set a hand on the back of Tenma's head, holding him close, reassured by his words. He couldn't make himself admit that he'd had the same libertine thoughts, but the truth was that he had looked forward to the next time they could be intimate. Being apart _ did _ get harder each time. 

"Does it... help?" he ventured, tensing up as his body began to truly respond to the touches. 

"Yeah, but not like the real thing," said the doctor with a weak smile, and he meant it — he desired to share himself with Lunge, to melt away the weariness of their world and make it only the two of them. "Could we... "

Face burning all the way back to his ears, Tenma found it difficult to plainly spell out what he wanted. It didn’t _ feel _ like himself to be direct about his sensual desires, but everything about this relationship was surprising.

"...Bring this to the bedroom...?"

It gave Lunge pause, and he stilled for a moment, glancing up into Tenma’s eyes with a bloom of warmth in his cheeks. It was such a forward, unexpected request, and yet — the expression on Tenma’s face… still splotched red from his weeping, eyes watery and pleading…  
  
He knew what needed to be done, and answered the query by taking Tenma’s hand, leaning in and pressing their lips together.

“A-ah—” Tenma squeaked, honeyed cheeks heating up.  
  
“...Was _ that _ too sudden?” the aloof professor murmured, passing fingers through the doctor’s dark hair, enjoying the breath of laughter he won for the little riposte.   
  
“No,” said Tenma, squeezing his hands. “It was lovely…”

Now both on the same wavelength, they rose together and headed to Lunge’s modest bedroom. Klaus whined when he was shut out, and his owner murmured an apology under his breath, while Tenma gave the large canine a contrite pat behind the ears. They would give him a treat for his troubles when they were done… doing whatever they were going to do.  
  
With the door closed, the Tenma guided Lunge over to the bed by the hand, offering a disarming smile as he drew him down. Whatever was to happen, he knew Lunge could be tentative in such intimate settings, and had no desire to make the man uncomfortable — not after he’d made such an effort to be reassuring today. However, he caught the glimpse of a smile on the man’s lips, and glanced up.   
  
“What’s amusing?” he asked, giving the German’s broad shoulder a fond squeeze.   
  
“I recall a very similar situation, eight months and fifteen days back… when a hopelessly drunk doctor tripped the both of us over onto his bed.”   
  
“Mm, t-that was embarrassing,” said Tenma sheepishly, not surprised that the former detective could keep time so accurately. “I’m not _ so _ drunk now. This time, I’ll have a little more finesse in getting you on top of me.”   
  
“...”   
  
Lunge blinked, a narrow brow quirking slightly. So his intentions _ were _ more serious. He’d wondered, but… 

This was… going to make for an interesting night, if Tenma’s sweet blush and endearingly focused brow was any indication. 

“I would say… that you are just inebriated enough if you’re being so bold,” the professor ventured, tipping his partner back with a delicate touch to lower him to the mattress. “But you won’t have to topple us over this time, will you?”

A little bubble of laughter hiccupped forth from Tenma’s throat — a short exhale, and nothing more, but a laugh nonetheless — and the doctor’s spine relaxed against the soft goose down duvet, sinking down into it. After countless hours in bus seats, airport terminals, a cramped plane cabin, and then a little taxi home, it felt like it had truly been a lifetime since he’d gotten to _ relax. _ He had Lunge to thank for that.

“Decidedly not,” the Japanese man sighed, resting a hand on Lunge’s bicep and grasping it lightly. “This might be _ slightly _ less spontaneous than that time.”

“Mm. _ Marginally, _ despite your very unexpected visit, _ ” _ he agreed, leaning over Tenma just so. “I take it you have something in mind this time?”

Tenma exhaled slowly, heart quickening with anticipation, but he nodded, never breaking eye contact with the German.

“There’s…”

His hand tightened over Lunge’s arm, and he gazed more resolutely into his partner’s eyes than ever, shifting to sit up straight.

“...still something we haven’t done together yet, isn’t there?” he asked delicately, but his expression had become quite serious again. “So I’d like to… I mean, I’d like _ you _ to...”

This was where reality hit hardest: the difficult reminder that this, when it came down to it, was a homosexual relationship. Thus far, after a year of intermittent visits that Tenma's schedule allowed for, they'd made considerable strides — but never had they actually had sex.

The doctor was still incredibly warm in the face, and especially so under his clothes. Lunge trusted him this much — listening to him was the most important thing now and always.

With this, he captured Tenma's lips once more, leaning in. "Would you like to lay back against the pillows, _ mein lieber?" _

Color and heat filled Tenma's cheeks even more powerfully than before for a number of reasons — firstly, that tentative Lunge had made such a bold suggestion, secondly, that he had addressed him so affectionately, and lastly: it blew the door wide open for more intimacy than he could have hoped was possible with the man.

Practically steaming at the ears, the doctor nodded into the kiss, then reclined against the pillows when Lunge drew back. He took in the scent of wine from Tenma's soft lips as he withdrew from them, unable to help a slight smile at how eager the doctor now was; he really wanted this.

"All I ask is that you communicate your wishes to me," Lunge murmured, drawn like a magnet to press against Tenma's body. The old wound in his shoulder twinged as he supported himself above his partner, but he ignored it as usual — it was more important to rile Tenma up a little more first.

_ Tease _ him.

He had figured out early on that Tenma liked when he took control, so instead of fumbling for more clumsy words, he kissed the scarlet doctor with more fervor. Right on the money, Tenma flustered at once, pulling Lunge even closer to accept the gesture, and slipping a leg back behind his partner's to lock him in. His mouth fell open, heart and belly alike filled with swarms of butterflies.

Lunge, _ Lunge… _ the things this man would do for him, even at the cost of leaving his comfort zone! Gratitude overflowing from him like a broken dam, Tenma kissed him ardently in thanks.

"I want..." he uttered in a quiet groan, squirming beneath him. "Could you..."

A silent gulp of trepidation.

"Touch... me too...?"

Considering him for just a moment, the German nodded, allowing Tenma to draw him in, and smirked with a hint of pride at the eagerness that he’d drawn out from the doctor. He rewarded that tenacity by removing the man's tie in one movement — not bad, if he thought so himself.

He sank down against the mattress, fingers wandering to the collar buttons of his shirt, and unfastened the first one. Lunge couldn't say how far this would go, but the usual concerns were fading rapidly from mind. He didn’t care anymore; he just wanted _ this, _ whatever it was, to keep going.

Their hips soon met in gentle frotting, a technique that they both had grown comfortable with during their recurring visits, as they wrestled each other's shirts off. Lunge ran his large hands down the sparse, sporadic patches of hair on the Asian's slender chest, and set a kiss to his navel once Tenma worked Lunge’s shirt off. Their clothed ridges met and ground together, and he gripped the blankets beneath him. His belly arched up into the kiss, and he wrestled out of his top with Lunge’s assistance.

A fine sheen of sweat already covered his chest, and each breath that left it was heavy — Lunge was always exactly what he needed. In return, Tenma worked Lunge’s pyjama shirt off button by button, resting his hands in the center of that thick European chest hair of his. _ Fuck, _ this was...

His mind was in such a haze, all he could think about was _ how much _ he wanted to kiss and touch this man. His hands settled at Lunge’s waist, thumbs hooked beneath the hem of his waistline.

“Heinrich… May I…?” he requested breathlessly.

Lunge stared down at his dazed partner, whose desire screamed out of his body’s every movement, his eyes, his husky voice. But the older man wasn't ready to fulfill him just yet. 

"Wait," he directed. He was the one handling things here, after all, but most importantly, things had to move at his own pace — slower than necessarily desired. He settled onto Tenma's pelvis, rocking slowly to and fro upon the clothed member beneath him. A sort of electric excitement tingled inside him at the pressure he felt against his own backside, and let his hands reaccustom themselves to the younger man's body. 

The stiffening, rosy peaks on Tenma's chest were irresistible, and after rolling them under his thumbs, Lunge locked their hips deeper together and captured the doctor's lips into his own once more.

Tenma's head fell listlessly back at the grinding and touches — static charged up his whole body, yet out of sheer focus on the wonderful sensations, his head was limp on the pillows.

He could be patient, because it was _ Lunge _ asking him to wait, but he had no idea what to do with himself or to Lunge in the meantime. Eventually he relocated his hands to his partner's waist, just feeling the shifting tension in his muscles as he ground against the doctor, and Tenma raised his hips to meet each lowering of Lunge's to maximize the friction between them.

The touch to his sensitive nipples rendered him helpless to resist kissing Lunge back when their lips met again. Swelling with affection for him with each tender touch and kiss, no matter how steamy it got, Tenma’s lust was always overwhelmed by pure love. 

"That feels… wonderful," he mumbled into their kiss, hardly able to get the words out between each nip and suck to each other's lips.   
_ “{Kimochi ii…}” _

It was satisfactory, but Lunge was far from finished. Among the steamy kisses and sensual touch, he moved his hand down between Tenma’s legs, locating the stiffness in his trousers, and began to caress with his fingers, feeling the outer skin slide back and forth along the length. 

The doctor seemed perfectly agreeable to this, so the professor proceeded to unbutton his fly to reveal Tenma's undergarments.

"A-aah…" 

While Tenma _ didn't _ mind, of course, shyness was still his dominant nature once the intimacy grew deeper and his undergarments were exposed. He drew in a sharp breath, blushing like anything, and briefly hid the side of his face behind one hand before making himself take it away — he wanted Lunge to see, to look at him, to touch and feel anything he could.

His hardness twitched in the giant’s hand, ready for more attention. Tenma couldn't bear to be the only one feeling pleasure, so he reached out to his partner, resting his hands on his backside and giving each glute a handsome squeeze.

A faint smile quirked the corner of Lunge's mouth at the gesture. This was one he kind of liked, but more importantly, _ Tenma _ liked it. Tenma liked the way his ass felt, and the fact that Tenma liked anything about this stern old German man never ceased to surprise him.

"Take your pants off," he murmured as he drew back. "Then you... may take mine."

Whether this was a request or a command was uncertain, but whatever it was, it went straight to Tenma’s cock. Red as a brick, the Japanese man lay frozen for a moment as his member throbbed in Lunge’s hand. It took him just a moment to compute, but he nodded, mouth dry, and obediently hooked his thumbs under his waistband, never breaking eye contact.

Honestly, this was the last thing he’d expected to happen when he stepped out of the taxi this evening, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it — he already had his jeans halfway down his thighs. In the next moment, they were off entirely, leaving him only his underwear.

Kenzo Tenma didn’t waste a moment reaching for his lover’s waistband after that.

Lunge noticed a small tremor in his hands as he watched Tenma undress, accompanied by the racing in his heart. Tenma had been through so much, and desired physical comfort at a faster pace than the awkward pair were accustomed to. Lunge reminded himself that he owed Tenma everything, and that simple thought took precedence over everything else.

The sight of the slender Asian in his tight underpants kept his powerful mind focused.

"Good," he whispered, steeling himself to be undressed.

For Tenma, this was never, for one second, anything he was owed. He was nothing but grateful for this wonderful, blessed distraction from the sadness of the world. The doctor's eyes were riveted to his partner, and he held his breath as he undid the knot in his pyjama's drawstring. He slid the waistband down his thighs, where the fabric crumpled at his knees, and he got his first good look at the tent pitched in Lunge's underwear.

“Oh… jesus,” he moaned.

Tenma arched up, cupping the back of Lunge's neck, and kissed him warmly, grinding his hips up against the professor's to create that delicious friction once more. He slipped his partner's pants off completely, dropping them over the edge of the bed.

"Does this… feel good?" he whispered into the kiss, caressing him with all the love and gratitude in the world.

The older man nodded, taking a hold of Tenma's lithe hips and rubbing his stiff cock up against him in turn.

He couldn't believe how hard he'd become in his tight white briefs, and how exposed everything was to Tenma despite the presence of clothing — and vice versa. Heart pounding in his chest, Lunge swallowed nervously. 

Was he doing it alright, or making a fool of himself? He wished more than ever that he could read minds.

Tenma nodded in return when he had his answer, only to have his eyes flutter shut when his partner reciprocated the grind to his ridge. The gentle, nervous motion was nothing but pure and sweet to the Asian man, who rested his hands over Lunge's in thanks, to encourage him.

"I’m glad," he whispered, breath hitching as he continued the motion to their hips joining together. "Let's keep going..."

God, the things coming out of his mouth... it was so simple, not even the tamest of dirty talk, but it was incredibly special nonetheless — they felt _ right. _

Tenma leaned back against the pillows again, but this time he took Lunge with him, kissing him warmly, and shifting a hand to the front of his undergarments to palm up against his stiff member, thanking and rewarding him for a job well done so far.

"Nnh…"

Lunge groaned into the kiss, closing his eyes to let the sensations take him — it was easier this way. His manhood jumped in his briefs at each bold, steamy touch, and it was his turn to show Tenma he could fulfill his duty. His thumbs brushed over his partner's hardness, measuring his arousal, then he rested his weight more heavily upon him.

It was time to move it along.

He let his hands do the work that his hips and lips could not, the act of foreplay and taking control of the situation. He would hear Tenma whimper his name, which awoke something deeply primal within him, pushing him to say things he had never before said in his life.

"Tell me, dear. Are you hoping to have me inside you~?"

The question posed to Tenma sent more butterflies to his stomach, and his blood went rushing north and south. Lunge had seen right through him, and Tenma wasn’t going to pretend like this wasn’t _ exactly _ what he’d been wanting for a while.

“Yes,” he whispered back, beet red and hard as a rock. “I’m ready for that. For _ you.” _

Lunge’s member continued throbbing under his palm, and Tenma’s nervous anticipatory energy drove him to give it a series of caresses and gentle squeezes through his white briefs. He wanted this too, didn’t he? His voice had carried interest.

“I’m ready, Heinrich,” the noiret repeated, this time more steadily, more confidently.

Lunge's interest was clear in his reciprocal movements, his tumescence, the hot flare above his sharp cheekbones — and though his nerves were equally clear, he forced himself through them as he would in any adrenaline-fueled situation.

_ Just like hunting a killer, _ he told himself at the joining of their lips.

"Good... Such a good boy."

Then he pulled down the good doctor's underwear.

Tenma hardly had time to process how fucking _ hot _it was to be called a good boy in this context — before he could fathom it, his underwear slipped down his thighs. His heart fluttered, and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to have multiplied, but he remained calm and level-headed.Unable to help the nervous grin that pulled his lips back, Tenma took a deep breath and let himself part his legs once his undergarments had gone, exposing himself to his partner completely.

This was... the very first time he had been completely nude in front of Henrich, wasn't it...?

The former inspector rose up onto his knees, Tenma's underwear gently grasped in one hand, and he at last took in his lover's revealed figure.

Lunge knew the words one might use to describe a nude woman, not that he ever used to speak much in these scenarios. Sex with his wife had been... an exchange, pure and simple, devoid of any such tenderness or passion as there was now. Lunge's hand began to type gently at his side, uploading data, searching for words to describe what he saw in the naked man sprawled before him. Suddenly, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, because although Tenma looked entirely different than anyone he'd ever been with... Lunge had never been so hard.

Tenma was beautiful — lean and toned, his body hair was minimal, but undeniably masculine, and it was the body hair of a Japanese person. Downstairs, that sort of thing just looked different from Europeans. When it came to the eager cock now resting back against Tenma's bladder, Lunge found him to be of modest size, and it was...

"Cute..."

Tenma hadn't known what to expect once he saw the telltale tapping at Lunge's side, but whatever it was, it wasn't this.

Never, in his adult life, had Kenzo Tenma been called 'cute'. Even his ex-fianceé Eva had never called him cute, so tonight was chock full of firsts, and many more were still yet to come. So potent was his blush that he could feel it spreading to his ears and neck, warming his entire body like a hot radiator.

This tall, muscular, generously-hairy European man leaning over him, at full mast inside his underwear and built so completely differently than any other partner Tenma had ever bedded —pale, lean, angular, an ex-detective and it showed — and he had just called him _ cute. _

Tenma had never wanted anyone more than he wanted Lunge now — to be _ devoured _ by him wholly and utterly. He pulled him closer, delivering a much hungrier kiss to his lips than before, clinging to the back of his neck and slipping a hand behind his back.

The brunet smiled faintly into the kiss, satisfied by how much this had pleased his partner, despite the fact that he'd probably never called anyone cute in his life, either. Thanks to Tenma, he was back on top, carding his fingers through that fine black hair, and let his other hand reach down to Tenma's cock. How far could the man be driven by simple touch alone? How long he'd yearned to have control over him, and now he truly did — Tenma had surrendered that control implicitly, and Lunge would use that trust with utmost wisdom.

His fingers continued to explore, sliding the manhood back and forth in his deft fingers, then his balls, which were pleasantly compact, until finally, one finger discovered the perineum. Heart racing, he rubbed the man's taint back and forth with stern concentration and three fingers — this erogenous zone had been played with before, and he was keen to see his partner’s reaction to it.

Since that first night, they had fooled around with each other’s taints now and again — Lunge's handling of Tenma's was so firm and quick, without being rough. At this new stimulation, the Asian went still, holding his breath without even realizing it. This time, rather than through the fabric of his underwear, Lunge was caressing his taint with his bare hands.

Tenma was no stranger to touching _ himself, _ but… there was no comparison for Lunge’s large, strong hands. He had no way of knowing where he’d be touched next, so every moment was a delicious surprise. Trembling, and squirming with impatience, he clutched the sheets beneath him in anticipation as Lunge took his time — but he knew they both had to take it slow. For now, it was just exploring the outside, the professor acquainting himself with the sight and feeling while Tenma lay there with his heart beating back against his ribcage like a prisoner begging for freedom.

“That feels nice," the younger man sighed before he leaned back and made himself relax again, muscle by muscle. “Even just this much…”

Lunge exhaled slowly — the relief was undeniable.

"Ah. Good," he rumbled, glowing more scarlet than ever. This was embarrassing... but the rapturous look on Tenma's face was worth it. His gaze dropped back down to the task at hand, and he had a good, long look at where he intended to touch next: Tenma’s entrance.

He passed his thumb over the hot, tight ring of muscle, applying gentle pressure to the area, and watched it quiver in response. They really were doing this, weren’t they…?

Upon contact, Tenma’s eyes flew wide open again, and a soft gasp filled his lungs with air. The one gasp slipped into a heavier set of breaths as the touches sent tingling pleasure straight to his trembling hardness.

“Ah — ah, shit,” Tenma breathed, the expletive passing his lips unbidden. Automatically, his hips moved back and forth to meet Lunge’s hand and intensify the pressure to these sensitive areas — he needed _ more. _

_ “Please… _ more,” the doctor heard himself beg.

Lunge groaned under his breath as he watched — and pleasured — his dear Tenma. He pushed all other thoughts from his head to dedicate his mind to the task, but the difficulty in ignoring his own arousal, straining in the tight briefs, had increased by spades.

"Wait a moment," he murmured, ignoring Tenma's soft whines of protest as he reached over to his bedside drawer and withdrew a small, unopened bottle of lubricant. This... was a necessity, and yet another reminder of how different this scenario was from what they were both used to.

“What’s — ” Tenma started when he spotted the bottle, only to realize what exactly it was, and _ blushed. _

_ “Where _ — _ ?” _ he asked instead, mouth falling open a little, only to be shushed by his red-faced partner.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lunge muttered in indignation, and Tenma immediately dropped the subject. It made sense — they weren’t exactly… self lubricating, but he’d been so distracted with his troubles that it never crossed his mind. Thank god for pragmatic Lunge… 

Eyes riveted to Lunge’s hands, the doctor watched him pop the tiny bottle’s cap and dispense its contents along one finger. When that finger was brought to Tenma’s entrance, he jolted in surprise by how cold the lubricant was against his skin.

“Oh…!”

Lunge shushed him with a sympathetic look, and continued to precisely apply the lubricant until he figured Tenma was slick enough. There was only one thing left to do. 

"Mmh..." he sighed. "Is it fine if I...?"

Feeling down someone's pants was a different thing entirely from… well, _ this, _ but Lunge had no doubts about Tenma's desires. They were both ready.

Pulse pounding in his face, Tenma nodded and reached out to Lunge's waistband, slipping his fingers beneath it and pushing them gently up against his partner's warm skin. He swallowed thickly, glancing briefly up at his face for approval, but then slowly pulled his partner’s underwear down his thighs.

It was the best way Tenma knew how to give his explicit consent. Tugging those down, and lying back against the pillows to submit... finally feasting his eyes upon Lunge's proud manhood.

Tenma's hair stood on end out of awe and excitement. He was... so _ big… _

Lunge, on the other hand, had never felt so _ scrutinized _ before.

Hands trembling, he slipped his underwear off and sat up on his knees — Tenma needed to know what he was getting into. Rather, what would be getting into _ him. _

Lunge had never had any complaints, with good reason — he had always been endowed with a long, girthy cock in that garden of thick, silvery curls, and an ample set of testicles that were demonstrative of his pure masculinity. Finally on display before his lover, Lunge set a hand on Tenma's knee. He said nothing, just pressing a slight kiss to the joint, and wordlessly met his eyes.

_ Would Tenma be okay with this? _

The answer turned out to be not surprising at all. At first, Tenma could not tear his eyes from it, transfixed by the pure masculinity. Pupils dilated, his gaze traveled from every hair along the girth and length, all the way up to the blushing glans, which had beaded with precum. This was not just _ interesting; _ this was _ alluring. _

"Heinrich..." Tenma blurted once his knee was so tenderly kissed, "…I need you... inside me."

Perish the thought; he fucking _ said _ it. It wasn’t _ overtly _ lewd compared to some of the other things going through his mind, but... it was still so direct and wanton compared to his usual demeanor.

Even Lunge raised an angular eyebrow at bashful Tenma's unexpected forwardness, but his partner was enjoying himself, which was pleasing enough.

"Heh... are you _ certain _ you've never done this before?" he teased, peering over Tenma and administering a floating caress to a slender thigh.

Fearing he just might explode merely from blushing when he was teased, Tenma briefly hid his face behind his hands. He let out a groan that was equal parts embarrassed and aroused, but his hands did not stay there long. He peeked out at his partner through the gaps in his fingers, and slowly took his hands from his face.

_ "Never," _ he promised, reaching out to Lunge's shoulder and gently grasping him there to keep himself steady while his cock was so sweetly played with. "I — this _ is _ my — _ mm, _my very first time with a man, but... if it's all the same, I… still mean it when I say I've never been so ready for something in my life..."

So then, who was Heinrich Lunge to deny him?

The professor couldn't bear to wait any longer either — he needed to know what this would feel like. Pink in the face all the way back to his ears, he nudged Tenma's thighs apart completely and pressed the head of his hardness to the slick entrance.

Moment of truth.

Heart pounding so hard that it left the rest of his body weak, Tenma clutched Lunge's shoulders as he was finally opened up and entered. Until now, the only things that had ever been inside him had been fingers, so this... not just any cock, but _ Lunge's, _was a substantial change.

It hurt a little, even with lube, which was to be expected. Tenma had been prepared for that, and he had felt far worse than this before, because much more than the pain was pleasure. He'd been stretched out plenty, and something about being filled up so slowly, inch by inch, was erotic just by itself. Lunge’s cock just took that feeling up to eleven.

The doctor's breath couldn't be caught properly, either — every inch inside hitched each breath he tried to take, and his gentle pants delivered moans to his partner to confirm a job well done. 

They had hardly even gotten started.

For the both of them, it was exactly like losing their virginities for the first time, all over again — they were certainly just as nervous.

Lunge’s progress was exceedingly slow, giving Tenma the vital time he needed to adjust around him, while one hand tapped intimate information into his hard drive. 

It was like with a female, but... this was _ so much _ tighter, providing a hot, slick grip over every single inch of his cock. A shudder of wired excitement overtook him for a brief moment. 

"Kenzo?" the older male asked breathlessly, checking in on his partner.

Tenma really had nothing to compare this to. He assumed a submissive role in the bedroom since that was just what happened naturally between them, but nothing had ever come remotely close to _ this. _

Some part of him felt, as his body was filling up, that so too was an empty part of his soul. The energy of Lunge's shudder transferred to Tenma, who shivered from it and the building pressure inside him. Adjusting was a frustratingly slow process, but they had to be careful. It was their first time.

"I'm okay," he breathed, meeting Lunge's eyes with tender gratitude. "You feel so nice... we can keep going..."

It felt _ nice...? _

Lunge personally couldn't imagine it being so, but he was more preoccupied wth the fact that he'd finally crossed the threshold on his mind — he was having sex with a _ man. _ He was anally penetrating another man, and it felt… _ good. _There really couldn't be much doubt as to his true inclinations.

Blushing at himself, the brunet took a deep breath.

"I don't... want to doubt myself anymore," he heard himself confess in a whisper, tightening his grip on Tenma's thighs as he began to move his hips to and fro. "This is..."

At first, Tenma cinched his eyes shut at the movement, clenching his teeth and gripping Lunge's shoulders for dear life, but once things really got moving, and the lube did its job, the doctor relaxed bit by bit. What a strange world... but, then... Tenma would not have changed it for anything. He held onto his partner, legs falling to the sides completely allow him more room, and began to move his hips in unison with Lunge's for deeper penetration.

"You... know for sure, then?" the younger man finally managed to choke out between pants, working his hips to pull himself flush against the professor. Even with his effort, he smiled softly, meeting his eyes with pride and adoration. 

"That this... is exactly what you want...?"

Meeting that amorous gaze, flushed and hazy, the German set his jaw and nodded. "Right."

Tenma relaxed around him a little, allowing Lunge to begin a more stable rhythm. Each push inside seemed to deliver an aching throb directly to his cock, eager and rapturous, and soft, refined moans began to tumble from Tenma's lips. This was not just any man inside him; it was Lunge. Heinrich Lunge, penetrating and fucking him.

There came a methodical squeaking of the mattress springs in tandem with rhythmic thudding as the headboard of the bed bumped lightly against the wall, punctuating each covetous movement of Lunge’s manhood inside Tenma’s body. Lunge made a note to move his bed backwards later, but for now, he was fucking Tenma, and nothing else mattered. Gripping one of the doctor's wrists in one hand, the other took Tenma's erection and toyed with it to make him moan.

This was successful, with Tenma instantly mewling. Being pinned down, too... the arousal _ that _ sparked would need to be unpacked later. Presently, he had one wrist pinned to the mattress and his cock was receiving the best handjob yet, and just as intended, the doctor melted and moaned right into it, breaths husky and sharp. 

"I'm glad... you found what you were looking for," Tenma panted softly against Lunge's lips before lowering his head back to the pillows. 

"Yes, I… I found you. Finally... captured you," Lunge groaned as he vigorously delivered pleasure to the man. He couldn't even recall the last time he'd felt this good. Perhaps he never really had, until now, like this, with _ him. _

"Captured..." Tenma whispered breathlessly. He couldn't help but laugh despite the intense arousal his entire body was radiating — he really had been, hadn't he...? Perfect Lunge... Tenma hoped he never changed.

Content, the good doctor kept his legs spread and braced the soles of his feet onto the mattress. "Now that you have me in your clutches... you'll never let me go, will you?"

"No, never again, Dr. Tenma." 

Lunge pressed in another centimetre or two, beads of sweat falling from his forehead to hit the Asian's panting chest. He swore he could feel every beat of Tenma's pulse around him, gripping him, like they were perfectly in sync as he thrust in and out wetly. The stimulation was palpable, and they were keen to go all the way. 

_ …Dr. Tenma. _

Heart swelling with the powerful ache of nostalgia and racing excitement from the name, the noiret pumped his hips rhythmically up to meet Lunge's as they picked up speed and power. He loved being the singular focus of this man's attention, to go so far as to call it his obsessive desire. To feel so wanted by someone... it filled and warmed Tenma's heart. 

"Nnh.. _ fuck... _" the professor mumbled, brow tensing as he felt pleasure coiling in his loins in the best way, with every movement pushing the head of his cock up against his lover's hot, ridged walls. But then — something felt different, a little bump deep inside that he’d noticed before, and when he positioned himself to hit it, the Asian whimpered in a very telltale way. 

Learned Tenma knew what it was the moment that spot up inside him was hit — the location, depth, and angle of the impact all added up. The strike against his prostate, hearing such a rapturous curse fall from Lunge's lips, and the delicious friction inside him, combined to push Tenma dangerously close to his climax.

"_ Uahh—" _

_ ‘Not yet...! Just a little longer... with him…’ _he thought desperately.

"Heinrich," he sobbed upon the second hit to that special spot deep inside him, whole body rocking from the impact. Damnit, he could feel every throb to Lunge's cock inside him — surely neither of them had ever been so aroused in their lives. "Ahh... _ Inspector... _ again... please..."

Lunge towered over him, breathing hard. The scent of their bodies and sweat, their heat, lingered in the air — it was something Lunge wasn’t going to forget.

"My _ dear _doctor," he growled, grunting a little with each powerful thrust. "You'll come now, won't you? I know that face of yours, when you just can't help yourself any longer..."

God, he was close, too. 

"...Come with me, Kenzo."

Every masculine grunt from his partner as he was thrust into, every time he was pressed down against the mattress from the sheer power of each one, the repeated hits to his prostate, the low rumble of Lunge's commanding voice... they all pushed Tenma to the edge of the moment of truth. 

He wouldn't be able to hold back any longer.

"Together," Tenma uttered between deep, hitched breaths, his dark flushed face turned up to meet Lunge's. "I'm — mnnn... I'm — ready — "

They fit together like adjoining puzzle pieces, bodies pressed tightly against one another, slick with perspiration and grinding as much as they possibly could, as if trying to meld into one another. The tightening knot within Tenma reached a critical point in its tension, and his thrusts quickly grew more erratic and desperate.

"H… Hei… _ nnnn…" _

Even Lunge's direct, deliberate movements began to devolve into wanton, bestial fucking as his balls tensed, and his breath shifted up in pitch as it began to feel just _ too _good. Something about Tenma’s submission, demonstrated several times now, pushed a question into the ex-detective’s mind that he could not help filing away even now.

**TENMA, Kenzo: ** **  
** **-Possible submission kink. Explore?**

His arm throbbed but he paid it no mind as he began to move faster, gasping, feeling himself about to cum, and he jacked his lover's cock off just enough until they both started becoming slippery with semen.

"Oh... ah, _ fuck _ — I'm —!!"

Tenma didn't even register the fact that his wrist had been released. Everything was too charged and too damn good to notice anything else — seeing and feeling Lunge completely lose control like this was hotter than anything he'd ever seen in his life before.

All at once, Tenma's whole body spasmed like he'd received an electrical shock, and the tension within him snapped and unleashed its energy. It bloomed outward in his lower belly like fireworks, and spread carnal pleasure to every last nerve in his body, forcing a guttural cry from his throat as he painted his stomach and Lunge's fingers with hot, thick bursts of semen.

Blessed... _ blessed _orgasm.

Hearing a sound like _ that _come from Tenma's throat was what really pushed Lunge headfirst into the perfect, mindless euphoria, his hand finally ceasing to type as his mind overloaded from climax, which he rode every last second of with an expression of unadulterated bliss. 

Soon, he'd filled the doctor up with all he had to offer, body cringing to release every last drop. When he drew back, Tenma's hole was left looking like a cream filled pastry... something Lunge was quite fond of.

Limp against the soft mattress and gasping for breath, Tenma floated gently down from his high, the stars in his eyes fading away. Practically soaked with perspiration, he gazed up at Lunge with an exhausted adoration, just taking in the sight of him as he caught his breath and allowed reality to catch up with them again.

They'd both be sore in the morning, but by _ god _ it had been worth it. 

He was under no illusions as to what his backside looked like right now — he could feel Lunge's essence seeping out of his battered entrance, and something about it was... _ still _ arousing, even after all that. What an incredible human being... someone he could trust that closely...

Even with the tides of orgasmic bliss receding, the full sensation inside Tenma's heart remained. Half dazed, he stared up at Lunge from beneath him, and heard himself whisper:

"I love you..."

The German had every intention to just go to sleep, giving his 50 year old body a much needed respite from the exertion... but Tenma's whispered nothings were certainly _ something. _

Something enough to make his stomach flop like it hadn't since he was a young man, adrenaline pulsing through him. 

Sable eyes settled upon Tenma, and he remained speechless for a moment, processing the words in his mind. 

Words really could be such powerful things, and silence just as much so. 

The longer the moment stretched out between them, the more embarrassed Tenma became. 

"...."

Ah, hell... Lunge had not anticipated this.

Maybe it had been a bad time — Lunge was clearly caught unawares by the gentle yet powerful declaration. The man was speechless, and obviously didn't know what to say. 

Though the silence was embarrassing, Tenma understood. His expression soft, he raised a hand up to Lunge and tenderly rubbed his shoulder.

"It's alright," he murmured, giving Lunge a smile. "You don't have to answer... it's more important to me... that you know… the truth."

What more could a man sworn to uphold the law desire? Lunge closed his eyes tightly, taking his partner into his arms, a deep sigh falling from his chest. 

"Of late, I’ve… wondered… What sort of daily ache do I feel for you... if not love? Something ever present, but... never given a name."

Endorphins flooding through his system, Lunge found his throat not wanting to say the words, but force of will would always triumph over his own base emotions. 

"K-Kenzo," he uttered, swallowing tightly. "A...._ {Aishiteiru.}" _

A lump formed in Tenma's throat, which he quietly laughed out in a single chuckle of relief. Even so shy... what a romantic Lunge secretly was. Precious man, Tenma would never let him go. 

He melted into the giant’s arms, closing his eyes and embracing him as he heard the air rush from Lunge's lungs with his sigh, and was unable to help sighing in turn. Burying his face into Lunge's masculine chest, Tenma held him closely.

_ "Ich liebe dich so sehr," _ he answered with a smile, resting his hand at the back of Lunge's head and running his fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad..."

Lunge titled his head to the touch, and he sighed deeply once more as his eyes fell closed, not reopening again for the rest of the night. Seemingly separate from him, his hand began to type — the data had to be accurate.   
  
**TENMA, Kenzo:** **  
** **\- The love of my life. ** **  
** **  
**The doctor wondered what Lunge may have been typing, but before he knew it, the professor was dozing gently. They nodded off together, closely entwined, the worries of the real world far away. All that mattered was one another. 

A good week lay before them, with peaceful, cathartic times to be had together. However, Tenma’s nightmares, already dark, seemed to plunge him headfirst into traumas both old and new. In his sleep, he whispered the name of a man whose grasp on their lives may not yet have been relinquished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :}c bet you weren't expecting THAT!!! I wonder what will happen next? If you liked what you read here, please consider leaving us a review !!! we love to hear from our readers!!! 
> 
> \--Clear & Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This was our first time writing for Monster! If you liked it, please consider leaving a review! We might write more for this fandom if there's any interest! (provided u want gay pairings.. lmao) 
> 
> \-- Clear and Pie


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